Packing father
Tin can, shooter,
Makes us ready

He lies in waiting
And I hope we find him
Before they find him


Ooooooh, ooooooh, ooooooh,
Oooooooh,


So I tell stories
Make my friends tick

They like me for it
So bring on the papers
'Cause we're ready for 'em

What makes us ready?

Ooooooh oooooh, oooooh,

ooooooh,

The sight of Brower

The taste of something
The thought of houses,
Rows of houses


The sight of Brower
The taste of something,

The thought of houses,
Rows of Houses
Rows of houses

Rows...