FEEL LIKE I'M FIXIN' TO SPOUT BS RAG
(With apologies to Country Joe McDonald)

Come on you whacko women and men
MOAB, it needs your help again.
That's the Mother of BS Threads,
Where people are weird and outta their heads.
So put down your guitar and pick up a mouse,
Spreadin' BS all through the house.

And its l, 2, 3 what are we writin' for?
The reason is anyone's guess. Hell, I reckon we love BS!
And its 5, 6, 7 no need to speculate,
We're havin' a ball and it ain't no lie, just watchin' the BS fly.

Come on people, get with the plan,
There's BS fryin' in the fryin' pan.
Talkin' 'bout Ralphs and talkin' 'bout freds.
Talkin' BS till we're out of our heads.
It's BS tomorrow and it's BS today.
God! The BS won't go away.

And its l, 2, 3 what are we writin' for?
The reason is easy to guess. Good God! We just love BS!
And its 5, 6, 7 no need to speculate,
We're crazy as hell and it ain't no lie, just watchin' the BS fly.

Now when Country Joe first wrote this song,
It had four verses and that's too long,
To carry on like a brainless twit,
About how much we love bullshit.
So I guess I better stop right here,
Cause the BS is up to my ears.

And its l, 2, 3 what are we writin' for?
The reason is easy to guess. Yeehaw! God, we love BS!
And its 5, 6, 7 no need to speculate,
We're out of our minds and it ain't no lie, just watchin' the BS fly.