My bethrothed girl's out there;
She's called the Promised Lamb,
And I will wear each day
Sweaters with holey glam.
In the pasture, paschal slicing
Has made me mad and blue.
So I'll go and search to find another ewe.

I'm all set for some fun
On the beach; what a day!
But the thief is someone
Who must have heard me play.
Guess my playing days are over--
Plaintive strains made them puke.
So they'll never let me buy another uke.

It's a long, long journey
'Cross the desert wide,
And in that fragile Ford
A fateful ride, fateful ride.

I was fated by fortune
As a foundling to fall
From the Ford and on the morrow--
Saved by natives who'd call
Me loser rubric Running Deer.
He vanished on the butte,
And I know I'll never find my "brother" Ute.

[instrumental interlude with lute]

So today I am running beer
For guys who distribute.
But you know, I'll never try another Ut.*


*Utica Club, beer brewed in upstate New York.