PUDDIN’ POP

Well, I love ya baby, you’re my Puddin’ Pop.

You shop until you’re just about to drop.

If I were a farmer, I’d neglect my crop,

To spend more time with my Puddin’ Pop.

Puddin’ Pop, you’re the pick of the litter,

In any sport you could pitch a no-hitter.

Your boss would fire you and how he’d be bitter.

But my Puddin’ Pop she ain’t no quitter.

Now my Puddin’ Pop has gotta live wild and free.

I can’t chain her down or Indian wrestle her to me.

She flaps like a butterfly, pollinates like a bee.

I’m quite fond of her peaches, wanna intercourse her tree.

Puddin’ Pop you win the white carnation.

You’d totally kick ass on Face the Nation.

Your kisses heal cuts and minor abrasions.

Except they don’t heal cuts and minor abrasions.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah,

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

Puddin’ Pop, Puddin’ Pop. Puddin’ Pop, Puddin’ Pop,

Puddin’ Pop, Puddin’ Pop, Puddin’ Pop, Puddin’ Pop.

Puddin’ Pop, Puddin’ Pop, Puddin’ Pop, Puddin’ Pop,

Puddin’ Pop, Puddin’ Pop, Puddin’ Pop, Puddin’ Pop.

Puddin’ Pop, you’ve got a way about you,

I bet you think this song is all about you.

And now you know I cannot live without you,

And I’ll Green Giant you, I ain’t gonna Sprout you.

Hey Puddin’ Pop I ain’t no hallucination,

In case you needed some clarifification.

I’ll be the cup and you’ll be the libation.

I’ll be the master and you’ll be the bation.

YEAH!

(Super solo! Fade out- The End!)