Worry Wart Stew
Oh my guts!
My guts! My guts! My guts!
All twisted in knots
Fulla if, ands and buts.
Hope the whiskey mighta caught it
But no, no, no…
Arms wrapped tigher than punching dough.
God please help me!
What’d I do?
Spear to the bread basket
Through and through.
Wiggle on the line like you want to be free.
Jump like they want you to
Cant you see?
Fishing is a sport, sport.
Your job is to report
Schools ripe for their plunder.
You don’t take no number.
Go to the front line.
You’ll do just fine.
Is that your tummy rumbling?
