Pound, pound get a pound
Yeah, I'll get a pound
Get a pound, pound, pound, I'll get a pound
Of some ground round
Round, round, yes, ground round
I'll get ground round
Or some veal or head
Ground, ground up it's ground, up it's all ground
Cheese with which I'll be fed

I'm gettin' bugged fryin' up that steak that's mostly strip
I'm gonna buy a roast. . .bake it. . .no need to flip

I'm lovin' the meats; I get 'em real well done
Yeah, no mad cow, because I will zap each prion

It's sung in rounds
Rounds, rounds, sung in rounds, it's sung in rounds
Song's sung in rounds
Sung in rounds, rounds, rounds, it's sung in rounds
By "boys" with gray heads
They'll play till they're all dead
Ground, ground, ground, and in the ground
Dead in the ground
But, back to ground round: moo
Wa-wa-moo. . . !

I always make a carve when I sever the meat
Once I messed up--Messer* slipped, hurled to my feet
That's something I'd have dreaded if shoes were made of light
Canvas, but I'd, yes, worn steel-toed boots buffed up bright

The knife went down
(Down, down, knife went down. . . .)
I didn't frown
(Frown, no, didn't frown. . . .)
My feet won't be bled
(Wounds, wounds, there's no wounds. . . .)
To drench the floor with red
(Boots, boots, steel-toed boots. . .)
Yeah!

Ground round found in pounds,
It's found in pounds.
Sung in rounds, this song is sung in rounds. . . .



*knife