(Chorus parts in parentheses)


Now once there was a quipster
Who could parody ad-lib.
He sent stuff to amiright
And they called him Old Man Rib.
He suddenly stopped writing,
Into why we will not delve.
Just state the fact and leave it there
That he sat out most of Twenty-Twelve.

'Cause we found out (Old Man!)
We won't shout (Old Man!)
We won't pout (Old Man!)
That Old Man Rib is gone.
Why'd he go? (Old Man!)
We don't know. (Old Man!)
But it's so! (Old Man!)
That Old Man Rib is gone.

(We believe) 'Though he was prouder
(We believe) Rib took a powder.
(We believe) We'll say it louder -
We believe he's gone.
(We believe) What we're perceiving
(We believe) Rib stopped achieving.
(We believe) Nobody's grieving!
We believe he's gone.


*Instrumental chorus of great Dixieland jazz*


'Twas Thirty-One December
On the last day of the year.
A zombie walked among us.
It was Old Man Rib back here.
What drove him into exile?
For now Rib will not say.
We think he may be saving it
To write about some other day.

For we have learned (Old Man!)
He's returned (Old Man!)
To get burned? (Old Man!)
Yes Old Man Ribber's back.
Took time off (Old Man!)
Big dumkopf (Old Man!)
Still don't scoff (Old Man!)
'Cause Old Man Rib is back.

(We believe) Songs he'll be spinning.
(We believe) He'll keep us grinning.
(We believe) Sheen would say "Win-ning!"
We believe he's back.
(We believe) This time he's staying,
(We believe) To some - dismaying.
(We believe) He'll be displaying.
We believe he's back.
Primed and on the track,
'Though - he's - still - a - whack!