My Life as a Boozy Oaf
Created | Updated Jul 23, 2003
Excrutiatingly Bad Filk
Mullet on Fire (to be sung to the tune of Mull of Kintyre, although probably not a professionally played tune, that will just show up my bad scanning)
Mullet on Fire, oh one thing I dream of.
The hair do of ire, oh why did you get one?
Oh, Mullet on Fire.
Quietly one morning, I rose from my bed.
Had a nice cuppa, and even some bread.
Then you came over, I saw what you'd done.
And my hands grabbed the matches, Oh Mullet on Fire.
Mullet on Fire, oh one thing I dream of.
The hairdo of ire, oh why did you get one?
Oh, Mullet on Fire.
Why did you do it, I liked the old look.
Afro or Bowl cut or Beehive or Crew.
Any old hairdo, I'd greet with a smile,
'Cepting only this one, oh Mullet on Fire.
Mullet on Fire, oh one thing I dream of.
The hairdo of ire, oh why did you get one?
Oh, Mullet on Fire.
You screamed as I lit it, went up with a whoosh.
You grabbed a pan, swung it, fell on my touche.
The flickering embers died as they removed me,
But still I can dream of the Mullet on Fire.
Mullet on fire, I didn't want to do it.
Your lank, dirty hair, it made me detest it.
Oh, Mullet on Fire.
Mullet on Fire, I can still smell the smoke from,
The hairdo of fire, now just a big slaphead.
Oh, Mullet on Fire.
My Life as a Boozy Oaf
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