If your father didn't lace that lemonade, with vermouth, I'd be single
I'll tell you what I do then, We'll stand you in front of a mirror, I'll begin strangling you, when you reach the shade of blue that is satisfactory to you, you yell "Moo" and I'll stop
Now son, look here, these redwood-trees they're over a thousand years old. I'm gonna cut me one of these down and use for a base for my satellite dish
Unlike sex with you, this is important to me
