Doesn't matter if bright clothes you're wearin',
When he's got an arm at his side
You will get shot just above the collar,
But with luck, you'll still be alive.
Often hides out but sometimes he goes hunting.
Your face he's blasting, then trills:
"Though it was a bunting."
When he's cocked and cocked, best not hang around
Gunning nut; he's still lock-and-load Cheney.

Doesn't matter if you are not flyin'
'cause you're not a bird and you smile.
I already mentioned bright attire;
He is gonna shoot ya in just a while.
Before you try to fix the injured dental,
The pellet-pulling process is incremental.
Shotgunned, drool runs; he drinks rum--ya get one.
He's still lock-and-load Cheney.

No, you cannot natter till you get some new choppers,
But the first course is, get the wounds clean.
There's a groove in your crown--
Stitch that loose skin flap down.
Watch out! Dick has got his magazine
Aimed at some hapless teen.

Something moved; Dick thinks it's a sidewinder
That is rustlin' the leaves of grass.
Says he's gonna get that low-crawlin' snake; he
Opens up--shoots you in the ass.
You'll spend much money on a new set for teethin';
Make sure your will's done so for money bequeathin'
They pay the day he slays in a daze.
He's still lock-and-load Cheney.

"What's the matter with some rounds?" he's speaking
A doubles-entendre. As such
Going hunting with him is imprudent
If he's got slugs and courage that's Dutch.
If you do, first you're feelin' sanguine (sunny),
Next thing that you know you will be sanguine (runny)
As your head's grazed, unfazed Dick's dazed, don't be crazed.
He's still lock-and-load Cheney.
Or you'll be soppin' up a new wound, runny,
'cause he's still lock-and-load Cheney.