Gnash till flat—flay teeth although ya oughtn’t ta,
Gnash till flat—waste, grind, then mountin’ rue,
Gnash till flat—been wastin’ since the “babies,”
Gnash till cracked—dent. work ere more you’ll chew.

Well, there’s 32, sometimes 28, good hard choppers ya gnash till
Ya groan when pick and poke—want some numbin’, by chance?
They’re past dredging, ya can’t fill.
Yeah there’s 32, sometimes 28, bit-hard, wasted from gnash ill.
Now every one is flat and not too hard—
No way they’re made better with a drill.

Ya grind down cusps: hurt, screams; bite night, day
But can’t be tooth-to-fill, perturb-ya-nil teeth rite,
’cause ya scourged with crunching’ chews; downin’ booze
Does not soothe, ’cause ya gnash on ’em light, night.
Now ya’ve wrecked ’em, man—dread; every one
Needs envelopment ’cause you’re a gnash mill.
South and north, gonna have to apply some
Stuff, more than a gash fill.

It’s because. . .

Gnash till flat—flay teeth from crunchin’ molars,
Gnash till flat—waste, grind, then mouthin’ rue,
Gnash till flat—been wastin’ since the “babies,”
Gnash till wracked—dent. work ere more you’ll chew.

Well, there’s sixty thousand eight hundred an’ twenty-one
Dollars in cash till.
They’re gonna mend each tooth sick and fix you up right:
Drill nil. . .fill with chill pills.
Each tooth is custom-made, and when the work is done,
Must cease the bit-hard shtik that is gnashville.
And I sure am glad I got a chance to allay hurt
With words ’bout ruin/ruein’ from the rubbin’—then capsville.

Gnash-ill-caps—cake teeth with plump-’em plaster,
Gnash-ill-caps—make nice so mouth won’t moue,
Gnash-ill-caps—they’ll cake over wasted teeth,
Cash till’s sacked—get work, see bill, gnash, rue!!!!!!!

Pick ’em.