Mr Jones' prized pot-bellied pig is growing thin
But on his way to the butcher he was sidetracked by the barber
Who said she had a very tasty cut he'd surely like to try
But his pork was in need of another opinion

(Chorus)
Look here amigo, I'm just like you
I care about my holidays
Tied up my heart, got blue mud on my nose
Goddamn another judgement day

Two hills over younder lived the widow Miss Yolanda
Whose dancing midnight apples were often picked at noon
One day a rabbi came and plucked and left Yolanda squared and fucked
In search of another ancient promised land

Before I take up your time, I'll have to covet your wine
That leaves me reeling, dizzy, heavy-headed, medicated
Take the sword out from your hand and wack the bushes in your land
Lay it all down to the sky till she gives the dirt my awl