’ruke, ’ruke, ’ruke, ’ruke of squirr’l….

Up high you see my curls;
that thing up top’s my ’ruke of squirr’l,
but off it just cannot hurl
because it’s girded on, on, on.
Yes-a I, I’ve got lots of rug glue, the most.
It could be a nest for starlings,
my mighty ’ruke of squirr’l—
faux hai-ai-air-air.
It’s really held on,
extremely rugged, rug made of squirr’l.
Can’t balk ’cause it’s glued on.
It parts real nice, ersatz hair.
Yes-a I, I’m now in the rug crew, oh yeah!
Up top it sits proud,
my mighty ’ruke of squirr’l,
on squa-a-a-are.
Yes, I, whoa! I’ve got a snug toupee, yeah.
Nothing can knock it down
my tight-held ’ruke of squirr’l.
So there-ere-ere-ere!