Lyrics:

There's old Gray with her dove-winged hat
There's old Green with her sewing machine
Where's the bobbin' at?

She's toting old grain in a printed sack
The dust blows forward and the dust blows back
And the wind blows black through the sky
And the smokestack blows up in the sun's eye

What am I gonna die?
A white flake riverboat just blew by
Bubbles pop big
And a lip, and a lipstick Kleenex
Hung on a pointed forked twig

Reminds me of the bobby girls
Never was my hobby girls
Handful o' worms and a pole fishin'
Cork bobbin' like a hot red bulb

And a blue jay squeaks
His beak open an inch above a creek
Gone fishin' for a week
Well I put down my bush
And I took off my pants and felt free
The breeze blowin' up me and up the canyon
Far as I could see

It's night now and the moon looks like a dandelion
It's black now and the blackbird's feedin' on rice
And his red wings look like diamonds and lice
I could hear the mice toes scamperin'
Gophers rumblin' in pile crater rock holes
One red bean stuck in the bottom of a tin bowl
Hot coffee from a krimpt up can
Me and my girl named Bimbo Limbo Spam