cw_masthead.jpg


    Crispy Critters

    By Bill Fries & Chip Davis


    cw_crispy.jpg

    One day about four er five years ago
    We 'as settin' at the Conoco station
    Kickin' tires, an' swattin' flies
    An' dis-cussin' the state a the union
    When right out in front a the Baptist church
    Come a big ol' purple school bus
    Had astrological signs upon it
    An' thirty five hippies an' dogs inside
    About half of 'em went fer the courthouse lawn
    An' them dogs commenced on the fireplug
    Rest of 'em set there starin' at us
    An' I sez "Roy, go git yer Flit gun"
    He sez "which is the hippies, an' which is the dogs?"
    I sez "beats the hell outta me Roy"
    What they was, was a bunch a them crispy critters
    And the leader was a space cadet

    An' he sez "Sagitarius, we has arrived
    Prepare to disembark man
    Get the incense goin' an' the sitar out
    We gonna camp in the city park man"
    I sez "Boys, le'me 'splain the sit-u-ation to ya
    A, you gettin' me down
    An' B, we got us a leash law here
    An' C, you in the wrong town
    You drop one string a beads in that there park
    An' you gonna see a whole lotta stars
    You got fifteen seconds to git outta town boys
    Or we gonna blow ya to Mars

    Well they all got back in their purple bus
    An' proceeded to the city limits
    Then the telephone rang, it was the swimmin' pool
    Sez a mess a wild critters 'as in it
    So we all got in the Marshall's Plymouth
    Which 'as always at the Conoco station
    Went flashin' on down to the swimmin' pool
    To give them critters a citation
    By the time we arrived it 'as too damn late
    Them critters's all had their pants down
    Them dogs 'as a tearin the bathouse apart
    An' they's after the fish in the fish pond
    I sez Roy, you git the one in the silver teeshirt
    An' I'll git the rest with a net
    We gona have a jail full a naked crispy critters
    An' a drip dry space cadet

    {Funky Interlude - Man there's banjo's 'n washboards, 'n pots-'n-pans, an' a mess a wild hootin' an' hollerin'}

    Well we gave 'em hell but we lost the war
    Cause them critters out-numbered us
    So they moved in, an' set up camp
    An' they lived in that purple school bus
    Six weeks later there 'as nothin' in town
    But eighty-four dogs, an' a head shop
    Sellin' dried up weeds, an' sunflower seeds
    An' astrological postcards
    Yeah, the critters took over the city council
    An' the dogs all barked their brains out
    An' the whole damn town was crispy critters
    An' the mayor was a space cadet


    cw_button_albums.jpg

    cw_button_cwhome.jpg

    This Web page is hosted by: Mark L. Evans

    Written and maintained by: Miles A. Lumbard


    Send Comments to:Miles A. Lumbard