There’s A Load (alias "Poopy Diaper")
by Ted Fyder
(sung to the tune of Country Roads by John Denver - sorry to fans!)
Almost seven, in the morning, my baby’s crying, and my wife is still
and snoring
Stumble over, and open up the door. Baby smiles but my nose tells me
that there’s more.
Chorus:
There’s a load, down below, hold your nose, get the hose, poopy diaper,
mama mia, there’s a load, down below.
Bridge:
I hear her voice in the room next door and holler
"This one reminds me of the one just yesterday!
One to hold his hands, you get the wipes, it’s just like sand, must
be the whole wheat bread. Look at the bed!"
Chorus: There’s a load, etc…!
Goldy Bear and the Three Locks
(from Camp Caribou Tape)
Have you ever heard the story of Goldy Bear and the Three Locks? It goes like this…
Once a time upon, long before there were beddy tares, there lived in
a far a woods way, the bear threes. There was the boppa pear, the bomma
mare, and the little bearby babe. Now, this gramily of fizzlies hived lappily
for a tong, tong, lime, weep in the doods, in a little louse made out of
hogs. Things were fine until one morning when they sat down to pour their
eat-age. You see, the bother pear said, "My porridge is hoo tot!" And the
bother mare pasted her torrage and said, "This is har foo tot!" And the
bittle laby bear said, "My porrige is head rot, fike a lurnace!" So the
bear threes decided to go for a long woods in the walk, to let their corridge
pool.
Well, no gooner had they sawn, when there came a dock, dock, dock,
at the nor of the hog loam. And you know who that was? Right! Loldygocks.
And she was looking for a plesting race. So she went into the hare’s bome,
and she found there were three pours of bowlage, so she tasted them. Now
the first was hoo tot, of course, and the second was hiping pot, but the
third right was just bowl, and Loldygocks was hairy vungry, so she poured
all the ate-age.
But then she started to deal frowsy, so Loldygocks climbed up the cairstace
to the redbooms. When she got there, she saw there were bee little threads.
Now the birst fed was hoo tard. And the becond sed was soo toft. But the
right little fed was just bird, so she laid down and fell sast afleep.
In fact, she snarted to store. (Snort!)
Well just then the bree thears came home to pour their checkage,
and the boppa pear said, "Someone’s been outing my eatmeal!", and the bother
mare said, " Someone’s been pouring my eatage!", and the bearby babe said,
"Hey, someone’s been grampling my sanola!" Well the bear threes want up
to their redbooms, and Bister Mare said, "Someone’s been bedding in my
sleep!", and the bother mare said, "Someone’s been beeping in my sled!",
and the little bearby babe said, "Someone’s been cruising in my snib, and
there she is!" Well Goldy bear took one look at those three locks and she
was dared to scat, so she jumped up and wan all the hay rome.
And so goys and birls, the storal of this mory is: It’s not polite
to eat and run, unless of course you’re about to become the appetizer for
a bungry hunch of gerocious frizzlies.
Walleye - lyrics by someone from the Lamont Cranston Band, circa 1970
(sung to the tune Rawhide - and don’t ever tell anyone you got it here!)
Trollin’, Trollin’, Trollin’,
Lakes and streams are swollen,
Fingers nearly frozen, Walleye!
Through wind and rainy weather, we’re in this boat together,
Six packs, lures and leeches by our side.
I’ve been drownin’ shiners, searchin’ with depth finders,
Tryin’ to get a big one on the line.
Chorus:
Bait ‘em up (Cast ‘em out)
Cast ‘em out (Bait ‘em up)
Bait ‘em up (Cast ‘em out)
Walleye!
Gut ‘em out (Fry ‘em up)
Fry ‘em up (Gut ‘em out)
Gut ‘em out, (Fry ‘em up), Walleye!
Movin’, movin’, movin’, though they’re disapprovin’,
Find out where they’re schoolin, Walleye.
My heart’s contemplatin’, the big fish that’s been waitin’,
Waitin’ at the end of my line.
Don’t try to understand ‘em, just set the hook and land ‘em,
Soon you’ll be listenin’ to 'em fry
Chorus:
Bait ‘em up (Cast ‘em out)
Cast ‘em out (Bait ‘em up)
Bait ‘em up (Cast ‘em out)
Walleye!
Gut ‘em out (Fry ‘em up)
Fry ‘em up (Gut ‘em out)
Gut ‘em out, (Fry ‘em up), Walleye!
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