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CRAB-GRASS BABY:
Stroke me pompadour, pompaduooor, pompaduooor, pompaduooor.
Stroke me pompadour, father. Stroke it nicely while I tell you about the
Problems I am having with my car an my girlfriend. Ooo-wo-woo, the
White man's burden!
Her and her girlfriend used to go out and booze it up and tear up the
Upholstery; rip the seats completely out, and so I got a fifty-six Olds.
About the time I got it running decently, she got in it and wrecked the
Trans... tore it completely up, so I had to get another Oldsmobile
(either that or go to Tijuana or go to BROWN MOSES way down
In Egypt-Land). It's so hard on a child when his car is fucked up.
Buy me a Volvo, faaather.
HARRY-AS-A-BOY:
Isn't it terrific, artificial RHONDA!
CRAB-GRASS BABY:
One-Adam-Twelve... see the enormous white pompadour! Ha-Ha-ha-ho!
That's a good one! Hoo-hoo-hoo.
HARRY-AS-A-BOY:
He's so young, and yet, SO WISE!
CRAB-GRASS BABY:
I pooped my pants, pooped my pants, pooped my pants! I went doody,
Faaather, sob-sob-sob-sob-sob.
HARRY-AS-A-BOY:
His vocabulary is astonishing!
CRAB-GRASS BABY:
So what if you suck a little cock every once in a while?
HARRY-AS-A-BOY:
Ohhh... I'm so lucky to have a son like this...
CRAB-GRASS BABY:
Barf me out... gag me with a Volvo!
HARRY-AS-A-BOY:
I can't wait to show him to all the fellas down at the MINE-SHAFT!
CRAB-GRASS BABY:
Take me to the movies. Buy me a balloon. Stroke me pompadour!
HARRY-AS-A-BOY:
Look! Look! Look at the pecker on him, wouldja! Goodjy-goodjy-goodjy-goo!
Hoo hoo hoo!
THING-FISH:
Dis boy have a 'PROVLEM'! However, how 'bout a nice round of applause
Fo de three 'WISE MAMMIES', comin' atcha outa chute numba five!
Writer(s): Frank Zappa
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