[Bluegrassy]
The fireweed flowers reached their ay-pex, beware the end-of-summer-scaries...
Scott and T are heading back to schoool, now it's time to split the berries...
Fifteen cuuups we thaawed by the hot stove, wild strawberries-tinily-sized,
picked one-by-one in the sunniest spots, by animalized humans, harmonized...
~Oh they speak... (Oh they speak) With the shruuuuuuuubbery~
Oh I never have canned,
No I never have canned,
I'm making grandma proud,
So now I sing aloud,
Yes I can can jammed...
I kill potted plants, can't raise a tom-ay-toe...
I don't have a pantry and my garden won't grow...
Don't know shit about PEC-tin or purrr-ezza-vation,
But now the Clearwater Crew has a phat berry raa-shun...
~That will last... (That will last...) The whole weeeeeeeenter~
(Insane banjo solo)
Yes, Yes I have canned,
I'm making grandma proud,
So now I sing aloud,
Yes, I can-can jammed...
Lennie would say 'we're living off tha fattathaland'...
Eating wild berries picked with my own hand...
I agree with that and the proverb, wise:
He who chops firewoood, warms himself twize.
~Oh I can't wait... (He can't wait...) To spread it some toaaaaaast~
(Satisfying harmonica solo)
And now, ladies and gentlemen, let me tell you about BLUUUUUUE-BERRIES!
