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The colors of my sweater
Stained by pili-pili
Lying in my coffin
I have all the time to think about it
Intoxicated by poultry
My head hit the straw
Stuffed, stuffed
By a certain McMaye.
Shouldn't have eaten the quail with pili-pili
Shouldn't have eat the quail
At the pili-pili.
Through the scar he entered
I didn't see it coming
My weakness for these grilled birds
Only made me dirty
This horned guy takes out his gear
Scalpel what's my name
Bar-à-nail you see
I'll take you at the hotel
To cut out your kidney
Without remorse and paid in American dollars.
You shouldn't eat the quail with pili-pili
You shouldn't eat the quail
At the pili-pili.
My naked body with the insides exposed
The quail and the pepper put back in the cage
The rest in a pretty package
For all good children.