CHORUS:
Shooters to tummy, tummy,
Give me some brandy girl
And watch me shoot down a few.
Tummy: no shooters, shooters,
One more and it will hurl.
You'll watch me puke up a few.

I just can't believe the lumpiness of what I spew
(Lumpiness of what I spew)
It must have that awful canned Spam and canned beef stew
(That canned Spam and canned beef stew)

CHORUS

I started to hurl; it went on indefinitely
(It went on indefinitely)
I should have stuck to wine--my pourings would sweeter be
(My pourings would sweeter be)

Shooters--pour 'em down; also pour 'em up from me.
I poured a little sweet wine, too, down me.
Now I now that was a mistake.
Too bad I had so much to eat--
Yech, yech, yech!
Pour. . . .