Forty-five minutes Forty-five cents Sixty-five agents sitting on a fence Singing, hey brother Look what we got for you We're gonna rope off an area And put on a show From the canadian border Down to mexico It might be the most Potentially gross Thing that we could possibly do Yeah, little buddy gonna get your chance Make them pubescents all wet their pants We'll record it live And that's no jive. Hold it! stop it! no! no! no! no! Bang! went the pistol. Crash! went the window. Ouch! went the son of a gun. Onomatopoeia I don't wanna see ya Speaking in a foreign tongue.
Knock! knock! hello! Can I come in? Gee, that was a wonderful show! Oh, you haven't gone on yet? Well, how was I supposed to know? Hey! we got a great date It's really downtown We're gonna get the grand canyon To do the sound It's a boxing ring But it might be the thing To really put you in the dough Listen little brother, don't ya get us wrong Why we even know the words to your song Just say I do And we'll lay it on you You! you! and me! me! me! Bang! went the pistol Crash! went the window Ouch! went the son of a gun Onomatopoeia I don't want to see ya Speaking in a foreign tongue.
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