Saturday, December 18, 2004

Beat Me, Daddy, Eight to the Bar

Image Hosted by ImageShack.us
Jack Black, Jack Black, I love you, you know
From the top of your skull to the tip of your toe
Your eyes, how they spin round your orbital sockets
How I love you, Jack Black, down to the lint in your pockets

Your mouth, rictus, and your teeth, chattering song
Make me weak, make me hungry, make me sing right along
Tenacious D make me wanna go Black and never go back
You, honey bee (not Kyle Gass), are the real daddy mack

Sunrise, sunset, and the day in between
Is filled with Jack Black -- hey! -- you’re really keen!
So give me a sign, O monkey-like one, show me that you care
I’ll come when you call, anytime, anywhere

I will make your bed, I will cook, dust and mop
I will make your home sparkle and feed you till you pop
Christ, Jack Black, I’ll even wash your shorts and socks
Or meticulously repair all the wiring in your home so you never get shocks

Hear me, Sir Teddy Bear, Sir Wild and Wooly
I’d be a good wife, and would submit to you fully
No headaches or excuses, oh, no, not from me
Lori's drive-thru would always be open for Jack Black the Mighty

So marry me, lover, make me a happy girl
And give me your heart, your soul and your pearl
Buy me diamonds and rubies and things made of gold
And I’ll make you happy until you are really freaking old

2 Comments:

At 2:49 PM, Blogger P.J.Backman said...

(dropping jaw in presence of sheer lyrical genius combined with recognition of amazing taste in Y chromosomes)

 
At 12:41 AM, Blogger Ms. Lori said...

Honey, I feel the need to bake you Tater Tots...

 

Post a Comment

<< Home