I`m just average, common too
I`m just like him, the same as you
I`m everybody`s brother and son
I ain`t different from anyone
It ain`t no use a-talking to me
It`s just the same as talking to you.
I was shadow-boxing earlier in the day
I figured I was ready for Cassius Clay
I said "Fee, fie, fo, fum, Cassius Clay, here I come
26, 27, 28, 29, I`m gonna make your face look just like mine
Five, four, three, two, one, Cassius Clay you`d better run
99, 100, 101, 102, your ma won`t even recognize you
14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, gonna knock him clean right out of his spleen."
Well, I don`t know, but I`ve been told
The streets in heaven are lined with gold
I ask you how things could get much worse
If the Russians happen to get up there first.
Wowee` pretty scary!
Now, I`m liberal, but to a degree
I want ev`rybody to be free
But if you think that I`ll let Barry Goldwater
Move in next door and marry my daughter
You must think I`m crazy!
I wouldn`t let him do it for all the farms in Cuba.
Well, I set my monkey on the log
And ordered him to do the Dog
He wagged his tail and shook his head
And he went and did the Cat instead
He`s a weird monkey, very funky.
I sat with my high-heeled sneakers on
Waiting to play tennis in the noonday sun
I had my white shorts rolled up past my waist
And my wig-hat was falling in my face
But they wouldn`t let me on the tennis court.
I gotta woman, she`s so mean
She sticks my boots in the washing machine
Sticks me with buckshot when I`m nude
Puts bubblegum in my food
She`s funny, wants my money, calls me "honey."
Now I gotta friend who spends his life
Stabbing my picture with a bowie-knife
Dreams of strangling me with a scarf
When my name comes up he pretends to barf.
I`ve got a million friends!
Now they asked me to read a poem
At the sorority sister`s home
I got knocked down and my head was swimmin`
I wound up with the Dean of Women
Yippee! I`m a poet, and I know it.
Hope I don`t blow it.
I`m gonna grow my hair down to my feet so strange
So I look like a walking mountain range
And I`m gonna ride into Omaha on a horse
Out to the country club and the golf course.
Carry the New York Times, shoot a few holes, blow their minds.
Now you`re probably wondering by now
Just what this song is all about
What`s probably got you baffled more
Is what this thing here is for.
It`s nothing
It`s something I learned over in England.
