Here we come, spittin' in a can,
scratchin' our butts
and flailin' our hands.
"Stinkiest Burp" the little one wins,
daddy is pickin' his tooth,
mama's a kickin' his shins.
"Hush you now! We're almost there,
gimme that mirror, and
Sissy! Stop showin' yer underwear!"
Wearisome greetin's, there is no need,
"Bubba! That's the hound's!"
as mama turns to look n see.
"Mind yer manners, there's the soup",
while wide-eyed "formals"
stare at our down-dressed group.
"Pa! Look-it all them perty dresses!
We'd better git outta here,
before they come n arrest us!"
Fer what we couldn't see,
we should-a known,
they weren't our family!