Packing father
Tin can, shooter,
Makes us ready
He lies in waiting
And i hope we find him
Before they find him

Ooooooh, ooooooh, ooooooh,
Oooooooh,

So i tell stories
Make my friends tick
They like me for it
So bring on the papers
'cause we're ready for 'em
What makes us ready?

Ooooooh oooooh, oooooh,
Ooooooh,

The sight of brower
The taste of something
The thought of houses,
Rows of houses

The sight of brower
The taste of something,
The thought of houses,
Rows of houses
Rows of houses
Rows...