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Verse So angelic, yet an arcane relic Whose scowl is oft misunderstood, Like a Michael Jackson style priesthood, Up to no good If it could. With no acumen for acting human Nor desire to show restraint He should be rehearsin' To be a nicer person Which obviously he ain't. Chorus So he shot A Mahatma Gandhi From a spot Where Napoleon brandy In the Spring or Fall, or any time at all, Is strange, But an alcoholic can appear bucolic Home on the range, Where a sneer From a prize tale spinner And a beer With the host mule skinner In the dead of winter won't let a scowling squinter stop, When the cowboy on the bottom Wants the top.
Music & Original Lyrics by Cole Porter To 'Bushie's Domestic Disasters' |