You can toot a kazoo under the high school stadium bleachers if yer lookin'ta pick up some street urchins,

but that don't mean Lynard Skynard's gonna send you a dictaphone message askin' you to become the 93rd member of their band.

You can punch a LSU fan in the gut if yer lookin' ta score some corn dogs,

but don't think fer one second you can shove yer grandma out of a ferris wheel without havin'ta pay fer a fresh hip replacement.

You might can hide from yer wife by divin' in the ball pit at a McDonald's Playland,

but that don't excuse you from stealin' a man's oboe to use as a backscratcher.

You can ride a hall tree around yer back yard if yer lookin' to make yer mule a little jealous,

but don't think the folks at Texas Tech'll give you an honorary doctorate for watchin' a Green Acres marathon.

Drinkin' too much at yer own wedding is about as wise as sleepin' next to a six-toed drifter,

'specially if that extra toe ain't on his foot, know whata mean?

Don't never trust a politician when his bowtie's a spinnin'

unless you like eatin' yer momma's shake-n-bake porkchops off a rusty old washboard.

Nursin' a pig back'ta health with lizards milk is what the French call a catch-22,

cuz not only will the pig bite'ya 22 times, but yul end up havin'ta explain to the lizard how'ya got banned from the battin' cages at Celebration Station.

A college education's kinda like a wet fart in the wintertime,

taint nobody happy about it but you and the slophogs, and yer Uncle Lou's gotta git'is couch reupholstered.

Don't count yer gizzards before you eat'em,

cuz chances are a squirrelly fella with tennis elbow's justa waitin' round the corner to squirt'ya with a novelty boutonniere.

You can laugh at a British fella when he calls a bathroom a water closet,

but that don't mean you can make a mint julip by droppin' an Andes into a warm Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Suckin' on a lemon when'ya got a tick bite's kinda like playin' Connect 4 with a ornery pelican,

you might can corner'im once or twice, but when yer back's turned he'll take a whiz in yer refridgerator crisper.

Now you can teach a drunk Comanche howta pump yer gas fer ya,

but that don't mean a beaver pelt's gonna replace yer old sheepskin seat covers, at least not from a comfort standpoint anyway.

Makin' jelly outta household cleanin' products ain't a bad idea,

but don't think that jelly'll save yer hide when a dirty Frenchman steals yer Roger Staubach figurines.

Pokin' fun at a Hebrew fella's about as wise as spittin' tobaccie in the church offerin' plate,

you might can get a tax deduction on the spit, but the Pope'll indian leg wrestle'ya for the all the cashews in yer shirt pocket.

Goin' to the church potluck without a casserole's like paintin' yer fence with sausage gravy,

the cows might like the gravy alright, but yer wife'll have'ta start sellin' wicker furniture to make ends meet.

Eatin' too much puddin' at the state fair's kinda like askin' a titmouse to notarize a document,

next thing you know the document's all chewed up and the county clerk's got cheese in his pocket.

You might can smuggle books through Missoura without gettin' caught,

but that don't mean you oughta eat the pickled eggs you found behind the radiator.