words and music by Stephen Barling

One finger
To hold back the flood
Itchy triggers
Don't guarantee blood
Stick your hand in the crack and let's call for the Coast Guard

So eager
To trim out the fat
That the beavers
Provided for that
Gave their pelts when the overflow filled past the lake line

And although we sing their tune
The delight ebony moon
May be damned if we do
On the lam if we won't
Take the kit down with you
Maybe build a new fort