When you've downed eight doubles
Of booze cheap--well drinks like Grant's,
And rumblings are coming from inside,
Close your eyes; this drinking spree
Is way beyond dog's hair.
You might upchuck like a sea at high tide.

You just crawl like a crane
That's been lamed by hunter insane.
Chunder's running, like a baby's,
Don't heave on your friends.
Winter squash comes in a squall,
Waterfalls way down to your balls.
There's some beans there, yech, yech, yech,
Your gut offends.

Then guy some above you
Thought he'd fart; it was so loud,
But that old pork wind did much more than blow.
When his end's untethered, his colon's much endowed,
A flume soon will be loggin' out toward the floor.

You just call out in pain
As it rains down, wetting his gams.
His bum's runnin', and pee next he'll send.
Dink spring becomes waterfall;
Crawl, if you can, out of the hall
And breathe fresh air, fresh, fresh, fresh, fresh.

Yeah, ain't it good to know, when your gut offends,
You're seepin' from just one hole.
You burp, spew, but don't squirt doo.
With fresh-baked rolls you will wet them
But not butt-jet them.

Then you call out the name
Of old Joe, who bartenderin';
He comes runnin' to feed you with gin.
Wimpy drinks--none for last call,
All at once to your knees you fall
And you heave there, yech, yech, yech,
Your gut offends,
You're farting,
Your butt distends--
Then it's poo you blow,
Then it's poo you blow,
Your gut offends.