(Hello, I'm Johnny Cashew..)

I feel the bag a crinkl'in
He'll shake me in his hand
Ain't gonna see no sunshine,
A tummy's where I'll land
Got sprung from cashew prison
Workers there baggin' on
They make us nice 'n tasty
For folks in San Antone

When I was just a blossom
My mama told me, "Son,
You're gonna' be a cashew,
A tasty crunchy one
From a pod like jalapeno,
Outdoors you'll roast and dry,
And be shipped to towns like Reno,
Get eaten and you'll die"

We're snacks for rich folks dinin'
In their fancy dinin' rooms
When we're munched down in Flor'da
We're like Orlando Blooms
And we always see it comin'
Barbaric misery..
Sharp bicuspids, molars movin'
To grind and torture me

Well, if they'd freed me from this package
And I'd grow legs of some kind
You can bet I'd scoot my booty
Save my salt behind
Swap that cashew prison,
For some rest home chalet
Where the old folks are toothless,
I might survive that way