Well, soon there’s gonna be plenty
reporters in Granite State.
Their duty they just cannot shirk—
every four years, their fate.
They’ll seek out some rubish jerks
and ask them to reply;
you do your best to make them to
seem not too bright.

It’s freeze, not fry
to where you did fly;
first the f**ked caucus happened,
but now it’s another day.
You go from one lily-white state
to another, with better food on the plate.
Hope your scarf’s on your neck high—
it’s freeze, not fry.

Get your equipment of out the van
and go looking for a toothless man,
who’s maybe with his wife—
prompt with questions about strife.
Find a couple that’s refractory,
give ’em the mic, see what the impact’ll be
Have toe-warmers on sock and mittens on mitts—
it’s freeze, not fry.

It’s freeze, not fry
to where you did fly;
first the f**ked caucus happened,
but now it’s another day.
You go from one lily-white state
to another, with better food on the plate.
Either case the temp’s not high—
it’s freeze, not fry.

Many people are guessin’
why these small states get such a share
of attention in the run to
elections…seems unfair.
In population, other states are more grand
and more representative of this land.
Still, gotta rush to these two states
while (choose a bigger state here) just waits.

It’s freeze, not fry;
the temp ain’t too high,
so get those fire flames crackling
for interviewing après.
You an your colleagues cannot wait
to quickly haul-ass off to a much warmer state.
To longjohns you say, “Goodbye!”:
You’re pleased to fly.