The wishbone’s no longer drippin’;
the wishbone we’ll soon be grippin’
the wishbone we’ll soon be splittin’…
hope good fortune is near.

Our fingers are primed for pullin’,
our fingers aligned for pullin’
apart this bone from a pullet…
getting ready to cheer.

We’ll violently pull it till there’s a split.
The wishbone we’ll soon be rippin;…
I’m sure I’ll win…no fear.

I’ve got it ’twixt finger and thumb;
asunder it’s soon gonna come.
I’ll rule in the wishbone kingdom…
celebrate with a beer.

Something is wrong when I’m pulling;
perhaps I’m too strongly pulling.
My certainty’s gone in pulling
when the bone starts to shear.

We violently pull, and then there’s a split.
The wishbone is badly splitting,
and it brings me to tears.

The wishbone was badly ripping;
I nixed win by badly gripping.
Feel sick—first I’m sadly whimp’ring, then I slash your left ear—
like Vincent you appear.