|
At twelve midnight I called my mom |
|
On April Fool's Day morn |
|
We two are close sometimes I think |
|
Because I was breech-born |
|
The doctor reached inside of her |
|
He turned me 'round and pulled me out |
|
I emerged her bloody babe |
|
His slap produced my shout |
|
At twelve midnight I telephoned |
|
On April Fool's Day morn |
|
I told mom I'd be home late |
|
Then I hung up the horn |
|
I went back to the party then |
|
I got drunk with all the boys |
|
Our florid faces shown so bright |
|
We made a lot of noise |
|
By 2am we all were drunk |
|
On April Fool's Day morn |
|
We had insulted many folk |
|
Garnered plenty scorn |
|
We boys, some girls and some hangers-on |
|
Formed a jolly caravan |
|
We headed for my canyon home |
|
To make our fool's day stand |
|
Tempers flared and tears were shed |
|
On April Fool's Day morn |
|
Tequila ripped and on a tear |
|
My party shirt got torn |
|
I tried to take a woman down |
|
Right there on the bathroom floor |
|
She refused, I threw her out |
|
Screaming, \"Bitch!\" and \"Whore!\" I threatened one poor hanger-on |
|
With a knife he was warned |
|
By 5 a.m. just three were left |
|
On April Fool's Day morn |
|
An English fool, an Irish fool |
|
And me, their foolish Yankee host |
|
We kissed and cried and swore our love |
|
And drank one final toast |
|
By 6 a.m., those two passed out |
|
On April Fool's Day morn |
|
I drove to Santa Monica |
|
A girl there got me warm |
|
By 10 a.m., I drove back home |
|
I rousted out my half-dead friends |
|
We said goodbye with downcast eyes |
|
So sheepish in the end |
|
My mother came out of her room |
|
On April Fool's Day morn |
|
She spied her sorry breech-born |
|
Hungover and forlorn |
|
I am too old, too large, too close |
|
To crawl up on my mother's knee |
|
So eggs and bacon, coffee, toast |
|
Were placed in front of me |
