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Timmy Tucker was a friend of mine |
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He came from a long line of geeks |
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Papa was a horseshoe throwin' man |
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He was a horseshoe throwin' freak |
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Mama's name was Annabelle |
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And his daddy's name was Zeek |
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He could throw them horseshoes man |
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He was a horseshoe throwin' freak |
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Timmy was a different sort |
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He wasn't like his dad or mom |
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They wanted him to be |
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Just like his older brother Tom |
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Timmy'd get so close, so close |
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So close but not very long |
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Couldn't even score a point |
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In hand grenades or atom bombs |
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Alone and tired, he walked the streets |
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Of Downtown Exeter |
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Pocket full of rusted change |
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A transcendence did occur |
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Metaphysical reckoning of his purpose did infer |
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He should huff himself the short trek down to the army recruiter |
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Poor Timmy Tucker |
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Poor Timmy Tucker |
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Poor Timmy Tucker |
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Poor, poor, poor Timmy Tucker |
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Timmy finally freed himself |
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From the onus he called dad |
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Let the army teach him a trade |
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Surveying was his bag |
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Sergeant Goatlips was an evil man |
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'Cause his wife was a wretched hag |
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Timmy blinked and opened his eyes |
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He was washing pots with an army rag |
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Hero's life turned olive drab |
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He was cast into a four year hell |
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Livin' in barracks with forty men |
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His loins did ever swell |
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Timmy took a walk outside |
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Lordy, Lordy, Lord, he fell |
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Rock was tossed into his retina |
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His eye was an empty shell |
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With a check and a discharge |
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He just hopped on the nearest bus |
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Went down to Tijuana |
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Got a nasty case of pus |
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Metaphysical reckoning of his purpose did infer |
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He should huff himself the short trek down to the army recruiter |
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Poor Timmy Tucker |
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Poor Timmy Tucker |
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Poor Timmy Tucker |
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Poor, poor, poor Timmy Tucker |
