Buckethead, you get out of bed this instant
Bob maximum has plenty of chores to do
I look out this window and see the things have not been done, I'm going to get quite angry
what would your father say, if he were alive today.
you got to be kidding mother
why must you always find more work to do
everyday without fail, we're dragged from our sleep and forced to obey
we're growing so tired
your endless orders are making us sick
we slave from dawn to dusk, don't you know you're so lucky
how my mother, I, how my mother
don't you know that all work and no play makes
mop the floors. mow the lawn
you're barking orders at the top of your lungs
buckethead get out there and clean those coops
the work's never done
how come we never see the neighbors (porters?) working as hard as we do
I think we've suffered enough
no more dishes no more slaving for you
you're pushing too hard
we will escape but not very far
all the need is some folks that can share our pain
now aren't you proud
we locked you in your room and really get it done
no one too scold us while we have our fun fun
tell me if you see the neighbors from the window when you peek
i bet I know the answers because we crossed them out this week
now no one cleans the kitchen, and the weeds are growing high
the coops are filled with chicken soil
and the neighbors swing side by side