What a fool is believing,
When ev'rything is gettin' kinda movey.
I'm crawlin' to an ass chew,
Oh Good Lord please pity me, she'll kick my booty.
When I get home,
She'll be all ready to fight.
Then call the cops, to say, I'm tight.
Drunk and kind of crazy,
With a pukey little hurl to do.

When alcohol gets messin',
I always seem to go right on to stinkin'.
So what's a fella s'possed to do,
When for sure a little rye he's been a-drinkin'.
Too much corn juice, that I just barely can stand,
Upside my head, a frying pan.
Drunk and kind of crazy,
With a pukey little hurl to do.

---- Instrumental Interlude ----

If I decide today,
To drink a little grain at Hol-i-day Inn.
Then maybe by last call,
When my liver is a startin' to decayin'.
I'll pose a toast,
Where is that bottle Jim Beam?
So I suppose, my liver's green.
Drunk and kind of crazy,
With a pukey little hurl to do.
Pukey...

Pukey
Oh-whoa, all right
I said pukey
Oooooh, yeah, yeah
I said pukey