That Kerry boy,
He won't stand pat his view on issues,
Tax our behind,
Boy wants-a tax us all blind.
We can't afford...
My lord, he'll revenue ya cuckoo,
Cash will be rare,
The strife'll cause much despair.

He'll lose in Pennsylvania, taken out by those who liked Gore,
Read it in a magazine he'll lose Baltimore.
Winners are not whiners,
Betcha those coal miners,
Won't be votin' for those flakes in Carolina.

There has been some whistle blowin' 'bout his bronze star,
He would run out when he'd see, an-y act of war.
Trouble with his colon,
Moved to his cerebrum,
Moving parts that interchange they are.

Waitin' to see,
A certain party's delegation.
Manhatten place,
The GOP starts its race.
Kerry will cry,
'Cause he's the feller whose race will be blown.
Can't say we're glad we knew you,
Send that cuckoo on home.
Can't say we're glad we knew you,
Send that cuckoo on home.