Moo Moo moustashio on his face
I can't tell what he's saying at all
But you can bet shit's in it's place
In a bucket by the wall
You can't stop him once he's started
V.I.P.'s make him retarded (Vodka in pints)
He always knows who's been traded
He read it in Sports Illustrated
Private school, Haliburton, Toronto maybe, hard to be certain
It's on the wall, your education, the school of Moo, and maturation
Puff a squinch, pints o' plenty, he'll blacken bowls, but won't have any
Open the cottage, then shut'er down, he's from the lower east side of town
His knowledge spans every sport
Even the Marlies and the Argos
Little Moo Moo at the Gardens
I think he hitched a ride with Marko
Him and Vermette make quite a pair
I got the plan, you've got the hair
And Judy is always there
And buddy boy is unaware
Baby Tate, smoked my nugs, drank my beers, then said this sucks
Ate a box of fish, 3 pounds of beef, then took a shit, and fell asleep
On the clock, naturally, cause uncle Kim, can't fire me