Ladies and gentlemen, hoboes and tramps,
Cross-eyed mosquitoes and bow-legged ants,
I come before you while standing behind you,
To tell you about something I know nothing 'tis true.
Admission is free, so pay at the door,
Pull up a seat and sit on the floor.
I'm about to spin a tale never spun here before.

Once upon a time, just a few seconds ago,
begins the tale of two brothers here below,
They lived on the corner, in the middle of the block
On the second story floor, of a old vacant lot.
One had a fiddle, one had a drum,
Between the two, sat a bottle of rum,

One bright sunny morning, in the darkest of the night,
The two dead boys, got up to fight,
One was blind and the other couldn’t see,
So they picked a dummy for a referee,
A blind man went to see the foray,
And a dumb man went along for to shout “hooray!”

Back to back they faced each other,
Drew their swords and shot each other,
A hobbled donkey shuffling by,
Kicked the blind man in the eye,
Knocking him through a nine inch wall,
Into a dry gulch where he drowned from the fall,

A deaf policeman heard the noise,
And came to arrest the two dead boys,
One dead boy who had no feet,
Began to run on down the street.
The other dead boy who could not talk,
Cried to the Policeman "let me walk."
Now if you don't believe this tale is true,
Go and ask the blind man, he saw it all too!

And the narrator, With this story all told,
Meekly whispered, both Loud and bold,
The beginning words, To the story's end,
You, my dear listener, are now enlightened my friend...