I knew a dang old-fangled man who'd rant at youths
In stores he'd cruise
He'd yell and swear at haggard clerks in saggy pants
Impose his views
This rumpled guy, he'd slumped and sighed
When the drive-ins shut down

"I never had a cellular phone deal," he was
Proud to shout
"No DVDs, CDs nor micro-tapes"
Said he coped without
He scoffed and griped, walked or biked
His black fifties wheels a wreck

He was so blamed old-fangled that he danced the jig
And waltzed, as well
No cash advanced nor credit plans for the junk he'd buy
He always clipped for deals
He'd get clothes with cash, he kept loads he'd stashed
Paid back the loan on his house

Mr. Old-fangled, Mr. Old-fangled
Mr. Old-fangled, rant...

He'd rant at those with fiscal woes and shout, "Beware!
Your clout's in doubt.
You've blown careers and shifted gears, now your hoggish whim's
Tapping you out.
A hog doesn't fly. Clean up your sty.
As your pen is smeared by ill greed."

He never glanced out at leath'ry tramps in raunchy haunts
Who winked for tips
Was not inclined to spend a dime on rowdy tarts
Nor on slinky twits
He looked instead upon the cook he'd wed
Wife served dumplings, hash and peas, peas

Mr. Old-fangled, Mr. Old-fangled
Mr. Old-fangled, rant...