Thyme--keep on snippin', snippin', snippin'
Into this stewed bird.
Time to be flippin', flippin', flippin'
This barbecued bird.

I'm gonna fry up an eagle,
So tasty.
Fry up an eagle,
Sip spirits preprandially.
I'm gonna fry up an eagle. . .
No gravy
Or pork--wallows, no ablution.

Feed my facie,
Not prima, but where I eat.
Shoot to kill 'em--
I mean eagles, not skeet.
Hound retrieves 'em,
Brings me back the treat,
Bow-bow barks in profusion.

I'm gonna fry up that eagle,
So tasty.
Fry up that eagle
Or spit-stick it handily.
I'm gonna slice up that eagle
Hastily.
Dining prompts its diminution.

I keep on dippin', dippin', dippin'
Into this stewed bird,
Fry juice is drippin', drippin', drippin'
Out from that chewed bird.
I keep on wishin', wishin', wishin'
That I'd bagged two birds.

I'm gonna fry up m' beagle,
So tasty.
Fry up m' beagle
For a "best friend" fricassee.
But then judge guy says, "'tain't legal;
So you see:
You must make restitution."

Fido I's nippin', nippin', nippin';
He was like stewed bird--
Kinda like chicken, chicken, chicken. . .
I'm a jail-crew bird.