I live in Massapequa - On a mighty nice fourth-acre lot.
Standing in my robe, lookin' through the bushes,
I'm wonderin' where my newspaper's caught.
Then I turn and spy these half-dressed, undernourished,
latch-key brats.
Stealing my grand prize flowers -
If you see them, kindly return 'em back.

So I scream, "Hey kids! - Get off of my lawn!"
"Hey kids! - Get off of my lawn!"
"You kids - I know where you're from!"
"Don't mess with me", I say, "Wreck the street - Not my lawn, Baby!"

My entry bell is ringin' - I go to see who is it there on the stoop.
Some boys yell, "Hey, your bag's on fire!"
Now, I'm stompin' flamin' goop.
It's three pm - the school bus comes -
Bringing little hairy monsters home from class.
Just 'cause they get so pumped -
Do they have to take it - out on my grass?


And I scream, "Hey kids! - Get off of my lawn!"
"Hey kids! - Get off of my lawn!"
"You'll wish - you'd never been born!"
"Don't fool around - or I'll sick my hounds - on your buns, Baby!"

I'm so frustrated, frazzled 'bout this -
I decide it's time to lay me down.
Now it's some ninety minutes later,
There are so many - strangers milling 'round.
They rummage through closets, take measurements,
And chatter away.
By the awning, I see a banner hung like a flag - sayin',
"Open House Today".

And I scream, "Hey you! - Get out of my home!"
"Hey you! - Go back where you're from!"
"You kids - Get off of my lawn!"
"Scoot your old dogs, and those potbelly hogs - off my lawn, Baby!"