| Pawprints Newslitter | ||||||||||||||
| Edgar Allan's Lyrical Yowls | ||||||||||||||
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| "Missin' 'Mericun Flies" | ||||||||||||||
| EDGAR ALLAN'S LYRICAL YOWLS � "Don't Let the Cats Out" � "What It's Like to Have Fur" � "Missin' 'Mericun Flies TOP STORIES NEWS LIFE & FOOD AMEWSMENTS HOMEFRONT |
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| Madonna had a hit with her remake of �American Pie� - you know �drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry.� We have no idea what a Chevy or a levee is but we can relate to that song. Our rendition is called �Missin� �Mericun Flies.� It goes something like this: A long, long time ago I remember how open doors made me smile I knew when I had my chance The flies fly in and in my stance I�d catch them and be happy for awhile. Who wrote the book of rules That flies are pests and not rare jewels? They are the prizes that I stalk. Now I believe in mutilation, Domination and digestion I just can�t help my fascination with flies Pullin� off fly wings Just like a mighty king Showing no mercy at all. Back in the states, I had my fill The whole fly population I tried to kill But I knew I was outta luck The day we moved to DK. I started singing, My my, missin� �Mericun flies When they�re swarming when it�s warming And the day�s sun is high. With their plump black bods and their mirror-ball eyes Singing this will be the day that flies die. Well, I know that flies are dirty things That filth and disease is what they bring They buzz around your head Man, it makes you wish they were dead See, in Denmark there�s no flies Not even swarming around the pies. The air is clean; there is no blight So those pesky creeps keep still their flight But I keep up my patrol For those pests as black as coal But they just won�t come around. I started singing, |
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| My my, missin� �Mericun flies When they�re swarming when it's warming And the day�s sun is high. With their plump black bods and their mirror-ball eyes Singing this will be the day that flies die. Well now, in the streets kids eat ice cream The lovers woo and the poets dream But there�s no flies inside Not a one where we abide And the three things we admire most - Fresh kibbles, naps and flies on toast Well, one caught the last train for the coast Now that the flies flew away. We started singing, My my, missin� �Mericun flies When they�re swarming when it�s warming And the day�s sun is high. With their plump black bods and their mirror-ball eyes Singing this will be the day that flies die. |
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