Forty-five minutes

Fifty-five cents

Sixty-five agents sitting on a fence

Singing, hey brother

Look what we got for you

We're gonna rope off an area

And put on a show

From the Canadian border

Down to Mexico

It might be the most

Potentially gross

Thing that we could possibly do

Yeah, little buddy gonna get your chance

Make them pubescents all wet their pants

We'll record it live

And that's no jive.

Hold it! Stop it! No! No! No! No!

Bang! went the pistol.

Crash! went the window.

Ouch! went the son of a gun.

Onomatopoeia

I don't wanna see ya

Speaking in a foreign tongue.



Knock! Knock! Hello!

Can I come in?

Gee, that was a wonderful show!

Oh, you haven't gone on yet?

Well, how was I supposed to know?

Hey! We got a great date

It's really downtown

We're gonna get the Grand Canyon

To do the sound

It's a boxing ring

But it might be the thing

To really put you in the dough

Listen little brother, don't ya get us wrong

Why we even know one of the words to your song

Just say I do

And we'll lay it on you

You! You! And me! Me! Me!

Bang! went the pistol

Crash! Went the window

Ouch! Went the son of a gun

Onomatopoeia

I don't want to see ya

Speaking in a foreign tongue.