by Greg Lee

There's a boy on the corner of the studio block.
He's a wild, wild river with a knee-high sock.
My Boy, he's a wild, wild river. (I got my own bugs)
My Boy, got a head with a zipper. (I got my own bugs, too)
Well he grab your arm like a heart attack.
Some day he wind up with hair on his back.

There's a big bug sitting right next to me.
He say yea he say no he say who the heck are we?
Got a tongue like lightening and hair of steel.
He never will bow and he never will kneel.
My Man, got a bug in his ear-o.
My Man better look in the mirror.

There's a tiny one living in the shoe with me.
Go into the kitchen with the enemy.
Gonna stomp on the box with a yelling sound.
Play the drum all night till the moon go down.
My Man, take a look in the mirror.
My Man, take a look in the river.

I got a thousand Manoulies climbing up the wall.
Make the studio room look like Mardei Gras.
Chicken in the pot stinking up the fridge.
Well I won't eat the bun and I can't eat the pig.
My Man, he's the chief of Morocco.
My Man, he's the big rocko-socko.
My Man, he's a wild-life liver,
Everybody gotta look in the mirror.