AL wrote:Could be worse. As in the Bastard Son of Dean Freidman......
Go figure. If anyone can figure out that reference, good luck to you.
I saw them play live once. Pretty dreadful as I remember it.
Well I heard a lovely rumor,
that Bette Midler had a tumor,
so gleefully I went to tell my friends.
But they said it was a lie,
that she wasn't going to die,
"and by the way, have we got news for you!"
And they told me that the man
I had always known as "Dad",
hadn't met my Mum when I was born.
And they reckon that I am,
but I hope to God I'm not,
the bastard son of Dean Friedman,
the bastard son of Dean Friedman.
And my school work fell behind
with this bombshell on my mind.
The art teacher said he understood.
But he could only sympathise
with the sadness in my eyes,
even though he showed me his Magerite!
And in the corridors of fear
I would shed a lovely tear,
as ridicule flew at me from both sides.
And they mocked me in my mocks,
and embroidered in my socks,
the bastard son of Dean Friedman,
the bastard son of Dean Friedman.
Supercalifragilistic, Borussia Moenchengladbach.
And you can thank your lucky stars that you're
not the bastard son of Dean Friedman,
the bastard son of Dean Friedman.
(have you ever wondered how you get triangles from a cow?)
we play the Champion League with this coach)
