In Saginaw, in Saginaw, The wind blows up your feet, When the ladies' guild puts on a feed, There's beans on every plate, And if you eat more than you should, Destruction is complete.
Out Hemlock Way there is a stream That some have called Swan Creek; The turtles have bloodsucker sores, And mossy filthy feet; The bottoms of migrating ducks Come off it much less neat.
In Saginaw, in Saginaw, Bartenders think no ill; But they've ways of indicating when You are not acting well: They throw you through the front plate glass And then send you the bill.
The Morleys and the Burrows are The aristocracy; A likely thing for they're no worse Than the likes of you or me,— A picture window's one you can't Raise up when you would pee.
In Shaginaw, in Shaginaw I went to Shunday Shule; The only thing I ever learned Was called the Golden Rhule,— But that's enough for any man What's not a proper fool.
I took the pledge cards on my bike; I helped out with the books; The stingy members when they signed Made with their stingy looks,— The largest contributors came From the town's biggest crooks.
In Saginaw, in Saginaw, There's never a household fart, For if it did occur, It would blow the place apart,— I met a woman who could break wind And she is my sweet-heart.
O, I'm the genius of the world,— Of that you can be sure, But alas, alack, and me achin' back, I'm often a drunken boor; But when I die—and that won't be soon— I'll sing with dear Tom Moore, With that lovely man, Tom Moore.
My father never used a stick, He slapped me with his hand; He was a Prussian through and through And knew how to command; I ran behind him every day He walked our greenhouse land.
I saw a figure in a cloud, A child upon her breast, And it was O, my mother O, And she was half-undressed, All women, O, are beautiful When they are half-undressed.