A long time, ten years ago,
I saw Bill, he took a bow,
That Rube he used to make me smile
And I knew if he had the chance
That he would lower down his pants
And Monica would leave him with a smile,
But February made him quiver,
House tried to send him up the river
Senate trial, one more step,
Was he a rake or a schlep?
I can't remember, if with pride,
That he bragged about how she complied,
But Hillary was mortified,
The day, the rube, he lied
So . . .

Lie, lie you impeachable guy
She was heavy but your bevy of women ran dry
Them good ole boys were thinking how could you, why?
Singing, this'll be the day that you fry
This'll be the day that you fry.

Did you like her look of love,
And did you set yourself far above
And shout libel at your foe
Now do you believe you're in a hole,
Can rubeness save your aborted poll
And can impeachment cloud your chance to crow
Well, I know that you were charged by Ken,
With perjury, he's not your friend,
You both ticked off the news,
Man, they dig in with those screws
You were a horny, new age broncin' buck
With an intern waiting for a little pluck
But they thought you were out of luck
The day, the rube, he lied
They started singing . . .

Lie, lie you impeachable guy
She was heavy but your bevy of women ran dry
Them good ole boys were thinking how could you, why?
Singing, this'll be the day that you fry
This'll be the day that you fry.

Now for ten years, you have always known,
That loss goes past like your poll has shown,
But, that's not how it was, you see,
When the justice rang for the "King" he'd clean,
In a robe he wore to seem pristine,
With a choice to blame Bill's vanity
Oh, and while the "King" was looking down,
The Justice tried to take his crown,
The courtroom was adjourned,
Impeachment, it was spurned,
And while Rehnquist had a look of sparks,
The court let facts stay in the dark,
And we sang purge him as a lark,
The day, the rube, he lied.
We were singing . . .

Lie, lie you impeachable guy
She was heavy but your bevy of women ran dry
Them good ole boys were thinking how could you, why?
Singing, this'll be the day that you fry
This'll be the day that you fry.

Helter skelter in a Senate swelter
The gloves flew off in an all out melter
Fate flies by with Paula last,
And Linda, foul, just like trash,
The Senate was in a formal clash,
With the justice on the side as "No's" were cast,
Now the laughing pair was in the room,
The Clintons played a vict'ry tune,
They both got up to dance,
Oh, but their careers could advance,
'Cause the House, they tried to make him yield,
The voting handed down revealed,
His Presidency not repealed,
The day, the rube, he lied.
He was singing . . .

Why, I'm no impeachable guy
She was heavy but my bevy of women ran dry
Them good ole boys are thinking "What a great guy",
Singing, this'll be the day that I fly
This'll be the day that I fly.

Oh, and there Bill was all blessed in grace,
Hillary in a Senate race,
With no crime left to try again,
So, come on, Bill's a bimbo, Bill's a hick,
He came out clean, oh what a trick,
Inspires with charity, my friend,
And though he botched it on the stage,
Hill's hands were clenched with fits of rage
No career born with smell,
could break that Clinton spell,
And as she blames her guy for this old plight,
She'll fight the old official "Right",
I saw Hilly laughing with delight,
The day, the rube, he lied.
She was singing . . .

Lie, lie you impeachable guy
She was heavy but your bevy of women ran dry
Them good ole boys were thinking why don't you cry?
Singing, this'll be my day, a new try
This'll be my day, a new try.

And Hillary, she played her muse,
As she spoke her presidential views,
But Bill just smiled and played away,
He went down to the same old state,
Where he campaigned to decide her fate
But Obama said the rube's games shouldn't play,
And in the streets, the children screamed,
The voters cried, and the pundits dreamed,
But not a word was spoken,
The banks, they all were broken,
And the three men I admire so,
Oh, Larry, Shemp and his brother Moe,
They thought the "Hill" train was no go,
The day, the rube, he lied,
And they were singing . . .

Lie, lie you impeachable guy, (nyuk, nyuk)
She was heavy but your bevy of women ran dry
Them three ole boys are thinking how 'bout a pie?
In the face'll be the way that we try,
(in the) Face'll be the way that we try.

Lie, lie you impeachable guy
She was heavy but your bevy of women ran dry
Them good ole boys were thinking how could you, why?
Singing, this'll be the day that you fry
This'll be the day that you fry.