My teeth aren't right, so mold my bite,
Meld me 28 to 1.
If my bite's right,
There'll be plenty ate when done.
So mold my bite, mold right, mold tight:
Occlude, clude-clu-u-u-u-u-ude.

Mold my bite,
I'll galumph on gulping food--
Yeah, right! At night,
My splint--I won't malocclude.
So mold my bite, mold tight, mold right:
Occlude, clude-clu-u-u-u-u-ude.

Don't blow the job when you mold my bite,
No bone chips, and give me nitrous too--
I'll laugh all night, howl!

Mold my bite,
I shan't shy from open yawn.
Bite's now a fright,
Looks like lycanthropic Lon.
So mold my bite, mold tight, mold right:
Occlude, clude-clu-u-u-u-u-ude.

I know what it means to overbite. . .
Teething-ring-tied till age 22:
Folks, that's not right!

Mold my bite,
Pour in that cold plastic goop.
Crank up the nit-
rous and I'll laugh and act real loop-
y. Mold my bite. What?! There's no nit-
rous!! 'L-u-u-udes! Dude, dude! Lu-u-u-u-udes!