I'm just average, common too.
I'm just like him, the same as you.
I'm everybody's brother and son.
I ain't different than anyone!
Ain't no use to talk to me.
It's just the same as talking to you.
I was shadow-boxing early in the day.
I figured I was ready for Cassius Clay.
I said, "Fee, fie, fo, fum, Cassius Clay, here I come.
26, 27, 28, 29, I'm gonna make your face look just like mine.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Cassius Clay, you'd better run.
99, 100, 101, 102,
1 your ma won't even recognize you.
14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, gonna knock him clean right out of his spleen!"
Well, I don't know, but I've been told
The streets of heaven are lined with gold.
I ask you how things could get much worse –
If the Russians happen to get up there first.
Wowee! Pretty scary!
Now, I'm liberal, but to a degree.
I want everybody to be free.
But, if you think I'll let Barry Goldwater
Move in next door, marry my daughter,
You must think I'm crazy!
I wouldn't let him do it for all the farms in Cuba.
Well, I set my monkey on the log
And ordered him to do the Dog.
He wagged his tail and shook his head
And he went and did the Cat instead.
He's a weird monkey, very funky.
I sat with my high-heeled sneakers on,
Waiting to play tennis in the noonday sun.
I had my white shorts rolled up past my waist
And my wig-hat was falling in my face,
But they wouldn't let me on the tennis court.
I got a woman, she's so mean,
She sticks my boots in the washing machine,
Sticks me with buckshot when I'm nude,
Puts bubblegum in my food.
She's funny, wants my money, calls me "honey".
Now, I got a friend who spends his life
Stabbing my picture with a bowie-knife,
Dreams of strangling me with a scarf,
When my name comes up he pretends to barf.
I've got a million friends!
Now, they asked me to read a poem
At the sorority sisters' home.
I got knocked down and my head was swimming –
I wound up with the Dean of Women!
Yippee!
I'm a poet, I know it.
Hope I don't blow it.
I'm gonna grow my hair down to my feet so strange
So I look like a walking mountain range
And I'm gonna ride into Omaha on a horse,
Out to the country club and the golf course.
Carry the New York Times,
Shoot a few holes, blow their minds.
Now, you're probably wondering by now
Just what this song is all about.
What's probably got you baffled more
Is what this thing here is for.
It's nothing – it's something I learned over in England.
1
"100, 101, 102" is sung "a hundred, hundred and one, hundred and two".