(S. Page, E. Robertson)
I know why I like like you
It's 'cause of your haircut and your clothing
And 'cause you're racist
I have a match; your face,
My asking you questions you can't answer
You want to box me?
Our world works in a weird way
I've heard them say that a man with a beard may
Frighten children or dogs but a moustache scares me more.
I know why you bite me
It's cause of your canines and your instincts
And 'cause I kicked you
I have a bone to pick;
Please go on the paper, and fetch me my slippers
And stop meowing
Man's best friend wags his tail and
Bares his teeth to the man with the mail and
Though he's frightened of thunder he never goes to war.
Tell me what's the circumstance of circumcision?
And what goes in my daughter's pants is whose decison?
I've seen the facts of inter-race relations,
Of see-through slacks, of cyber-masturbation;
If a hundred monkeys each could get their own show,
Perhaps on day a chimp might say
"You have faith, you just need to use it, sayeth the Lord"
I know why I like like you
It 'cause of your sandals and your supper
And 'cause you're Jesus
I have a match; your Dad, my dad has
Your picture right next to you mother's,
And one of Charo
They hold hands up in heaven
And they say that their son's name is Kevin
But I read in a book somewhere that his name is Jack
