Lyrics:

Born the daughter of a comedian
Middle of the eighties
Someone turn that awful mouth-breathing down
Or else
Sally Hatchet lives in a hole in the ground
The longer it keeps raining
The more she has to struggle to maintain a wonderful time
Oh, yeah
Go on and laugh it up without me
I've got smoke in my lungs
And a past-life in the trunk

Pretty rattled by the way that she
Empties a few clips out
Do I have a choice now?
'Point that thing away from me, Lady!'