Oh what do you say when you're out the bay and your pots are cooking and fryin
Well you packed them away it's the end of the day and no sir you can't find them
Oh you looks in the cuddy and you asks your buddy and still there ain't no sign of 'em
Which means, of course, that they're back on the wharf
Then you starts with riddley-dyin
Cursed screeching merciful bawlin sufferin' mother of Moses
Oh the rancing riddley, dancing diddley, ogis, blogis, mogis
Oh the rotten roarin' reelin' and the bloated blazin' bleedin'
And the wife over there saying, "Mind yer mout' now!"
Spoken: No, you wouldn't know..
If that wasn't enough, when you goes for your grub cause you knows you had the grub bag
You looks in the boat, gets after the scoat, cause the young feller he mighta eat dat
You stubs yer toe, that makes ya blow , when you're searching in the water to find it
As you looks around there's none to be found, what's coming in to your mind is
Oh the cursed screeching merciful bawlin sufferin' mother of Moses
Oh the rancing riddley, dancing diddley, ogis, blogis, mogis
Oh the rotten roarin' reevin' and the bloated blazin' bleedin'
And the wife over there saying, "Mind yer mout' now!"
Spoken: I don't know what I got that along fer.
There's something queer when you goes for a beer and they ain't where you left them
You goes up to the brook to have a look, dreaming of a nice cold wet one
Well the bottles are gone, something is wrong, and you hops on the stump to get closer
To the maker above, you starts shouting stuff, cause it can't gets worse or no sir.
Oh the cursed screeching merciful bawlin sufferin' mother of Moses
Oh the rancing riddley, dancing diddley, ogis, blogis, mogis
Oh the rotten roarin' reevin' and the bloated blazin' bleedin'
And the wife over there saying, "Mind yer mout' now!"
Spoken: That's it!
You made up yer mind, you're leaving her behind and the young feller's best off with her
Storming down from the woods, you're leaving her for good, yes no one's left here faster
But something catches yer nose and over you goes and the wife asks where was you gone to?
She got the grub and the beer all cooked and prepared, right nice she says, "I loves ya!"
Oh the cursed screeching merciful bawlin sufferin' mother of Moses
Oh the rancing riddley, dancing diddley, ogis, blogis, mogis
Oh the rotten roarin' reevin' and the bloated blazin' bleedin'
And the wife over there soaking up me praise
Spoken: Now that's what he got her along fer, see?
