Song Parodies -> Fish 'n' Chips
| Original Song Title: | "Wooden Ships" |
| Original Performer: | Crosby, Stills & Nash |
| Parody Song Title: | "Fish 'n' Chips" |
| Parody Written by: | Henry Moon |
If you order chips
I will understand
French fries are something
Everybody everywhere says in the same language
I can see by your coat, my friend
You favor Freedom Fries
There's just one thing, I've got to close
Can you tell me when you're done
Say, can I have some of your deep-fried Mars bar
Yes, I've been eating them for six or seven weeks now
Haven't got sick once
Prob'ly keep us both alive
Fish 'n' chips from the paper, mushy peas, they're greasy
Greasy, you know the way they're supposed to be
Salt 'n' vinegar on the counter, it's all free
('Cept for the cup of tea) and greasy
Gravy drips down as we watch you eat
All we can do is shuffle and move our feet
Stare as you mop up with wholewheat
We are leaving, you don't feed us
Go take a handkerchief by the hand
Mop your shirt front as your girth expands
Far away from overactive glands
We are leaving, you don't feed us
And it's a fair wind
Blowin' warm out of the south under my raincoat
Guess I'll blame the pickled eggs...
I will understand
French fries are something
Everybody everywhere says in the same language
I can see by your coat, my friend
You favor Freedom Fries
There's just one thing, I've got to close
Can you tell me when you're done
Say, can I have some of your deep-fried Mars bar
Yes, I've been eating them for six or seven weeks now
Haven't got sick once
Prob'ly keep us both alive
Fish 'n' chips from the paper, mushy peas, they're greasy
Greasy, you know the way they're supposed to be
Salt 'n' vinegar on the counter, it's all free
('Cept for the cup of tea) and greasy
Gravy drips down as we watch you eat
All we can do is shuffle and move our feet
Stare as you mop up with wholewheat
We are leaving, you don't feed us
Go take a handkerchief by the hand
Mop your shirt front as your girth expands
Far away from overactive glands
We are leaving, you don't feed us
And it's a fair wind
Blowin' warm out of the south under my raincoat
Guess I'll blame the pickled eggs...
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| 5 | 3 | 3 | 3 |
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You'd swear it was as if Mr. Nash missed British food.... I loved this.
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