Martin Mull
Martin Mull
Martin Mull
Martin Mull
Martin Mull
Martin Mull
Martin Mull
Martin Mull
Martin Mull
Martin Mull
Chicken dinner, mmm, every Sunday
It's spaghetti on Wednesday night
Off to the neighbors
For that late night bite
And now, I'm home and hungry
And all I got in front of me is
Eggs
It doesn't matter how you cook them eggs
I'd be gladder if someone took them eggs, mmm hmm
They remind me of a chicken
And I'd rather have a chicken than eggs
Oh, those eggs
It doesn't matter how you cook them eggs
I'd be gladder if someone took them eggs
Oh, they remind me of a chicken and I'd rather have a chicken than eggs
I got mind to ramble
I got an egg to scramble
I think that those eggs are swell
But keep those honkeys in their cell, them eggs
Oh my heart's achin' for the thing next to bacon, yeah
Eggs
That's all it is, nothin' but a song about eggs
Here we go, Peter, cook it up, now
Those eggs
Doesn't matter how you cook them eggs
I'd be gladder if someone took them eggs
They remind me of a chicken
And I'd rather have a chicken than eggs