WHEN it's time to kill the turkey
          Call me early teacher please.
Won't you do it in the kitchen;
          If you don't your ears you'll freeze.
Chop its head off with the hatchet,
          I have sharpened it to-day.
That will make the operation
          Very easy; let us pray!
Rub the hatchet on the oil stone.
          Chase the cat, it's acting queer,
Kick it out the kitchen window,
          That will settle it my dear.
Afterwards we'll have a picnic,
          One fine caper, just the thing.
Hark I hear the barber singing
          As he chews the turkey's wing.
Tickle pickle, yank yer nickel
          Don't be fickle, don't yer see,
That I have an extra kidney
Where my liver ought to be.

Hasten to the mystic arbor,
          There beneath the cypress tree
You will see the barking barber,
          Grab him, fetch him here to me.
He is such a skilful sailor
          He will surely guide us right
Thru the eye of Satan's tailor.
          Do not shriek aloud with fright.
Quick—decapitate the turkey,
          Give it to him in the neck.
Get a move on, come and join me
          Here upon the lower deck.
Soon well reach the seventh heaven,
          Gulping down the gobbler's wing
What a racket–take my jacket.
          Now at last I'll have my fling.
Tickle pickle, yank yer nickel,
          Don't be fickle, don't yer see,
That I have an extra kidney
          Where my liver ought to be.

See the barking barber twisting,
          He is clever with his fist.
I declare! the boat is listing,
          See the barking barber twist.
Make him ply the oar more quickly—
          Else within the mud we'll stick.
Is the barking barber sickly?
          Some one hit him with a brick.
Light the taper, that's the caper,
          Slap the barber in the groin.
That's the wrinkle, quite a stinkle.
          Come on everybody join
In the search for deviation.
          Wash yer neck, 'twill comfort bring.
Raise yer voice, sing hallelujah!
          Oh be joyful, let us sing.
Tickle pickle, yank yer nickel
          Don't be fickle, don't yer see,
That I have an extra kidney
          Where my liver ought to be.

We are sailing o'er the billow
          On the pretty mountain lake—
Perched upon the seat of willow
          Munching at a bit of cake,
Gazing at the vale of Geddo
          Eating Danish pastry sweet.
From the distant mountain meadow
          Hear that wail—the lambkins bleat,
On the cresto of that nesto,
          There I'll find the game I lamp.
Daffodillies, I've the willies—
          That's the ticket, thus I stamp
One loud holler, loose my collar.
          Now at last I'll have my fling.
In the racket. Take my jacket.
          Holy Moses! Let us sing,
Tickle pickle; yank yer nickel .
          Don't be fickle, don't yer see,
That I have an extra kidney
          Where my liver ought to be.

What a lazy barking barber
          See him glue his eyes afar
On an avalanche of charcoal
          Charging like a dusky star
Bent on mischief. I am certain
          Satan's wife is on the mash.
Hell triumphant, see the lightning
          Followed by the thunder crash.
Yanking off my head, and also
          Beating up the little boat
Splitting every sturdy timber.
          Now we can no longer float.
Kicking, choking, we poor madmen
          Sink beneath the slimy trail.
What a fancy bunch of corpses
          Altogether in one jail.
Tickle pickle, yank yer nickel
          Don't be fickle, don't yer see,
That I have an extra kidney
          Where my liver ought to be.

Life is over. Now in clover
          I am certain I am dead.
All dishevelled quite bedeviled,
          Things seem queer without my head.
I am bumping on the sea shore
          Near the mighty Inchcape* rock
Carpeted with rhododendrons
          Mingled with the yellow dock.
Presently two fisher maidens
          Gaze upon my cold remains
Throwing up their hands with horror.
          Then these sympathetic Janes
Drag me up the hill of Geddo,
          Get a shovel and a pick
Dig my grave here on the meadow,
          Everything is nicely slick.
Now my extra flaming kidney
          With an evil eye of spite
Quite extinguishes all gladness.
          We have fought the losing fight.
Tickle pickle, yank yer nickel
          Don't be fickle, don't yer see,
That I have an extra kidney
          Where my liver ought to be.

*NOTE—Inchcape Rock. See note on last page of book.

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