I met a man the other day eating old sardines,
And pickled eggs and garlic cheese,
And moldy tangerines.
And cat food and dog food with just a bit of mayo,
With liver and beets,
And shriveled up potatoes.
He drank a glass of buttermilk and then a whiskey shot,
And soured tea and black coffee,
And liquor from the pot.
He said, "Hello, how do you do? My name is Harry Hyde."
My eyes did glaze, my legs got weak -
And then I fell and died.
