Hell, these are real tough "cookies"; it's a luncheon of He;
They're gonna break apart all the teeth in me.
My rebuke: it's real hard to chew it;
I'd like to puke, but I won't spew it.
Hit me with a wet shot,
Wine host smooths. Hit me with a wet shot.
Hit me with a wet shot,
Rhine or Tokay.

The sermon gets me squirming, 'cause I been there:
The seven deadlies are my fare.
All go down; I can't--knee pain,
And then I'm hearing a "sweet" refrain:
Hymns keened by a blessed lot,
High notes group. . .hymns keened by a blessed lot.
Hymns keened by a blessed lot,
Choir away

Help, I've had enough Bruckner, who wrote long symphonies;
To all those who listen go my sympathies.
I look around--no one to watch--I split, quick, this place
And go down to the basement and crack a case.

Hit me with a wet shot;
Wine's profuse--hit me with a wet shot.
Hit me with a wet shot--
I too can bray.

Hideously drenched sot,
I go sing hymns keened by the blessed lot.
Hims-keen guy undressed tots. . .
Spire away.