C.w. Mccall: Comin’ Back For More lyrics
way up in the snow
Where the scrub oaks grow
And the coneys and the picas play
Where the marmots abound
All a-diggin in the ground
And the wind blows cold all day
Theres a little pile a stones
On a little pile a bones
Thats a-what the archaeologists say
But the folks in lake city
Well, they sing a different ditty
It would like to make your hair turn gray
Now, its kinda hard to find
But itll altercate your mind
If you happen to go the right way
You take slumgullion pass
And dont stop for no gas
Until you get yourself to als caf
It was the genuine, original
Highly pathological
Finger-lickin digital caf
It was al packers legendary
Coronary fast-food
Cannibal bar and buffet
Some dark night
You gonna see a weird light
Up on cannibal plateau, they say
Its a scrub oak fire
Like a funeral pyre
Old packers been a-cookin all day
A-when the coyotes howl
And the cougars on the prowl
They aint lookin for your customary prey
Nah, theyre waitin for bones
In a pile a hot stones
At old al packers caf
[chorus]
Comin back for more
Comin back for more
Baby, comin back for more
Als cafe
Comin back for more
Comin back for more
Baby, comin back for more
(old al packer
Was a real bone-cracker
Got lost in a blizzard one day )
When the boys went to get im
Old al just et em
And he buried all the bones in the clay
Now you know them fellas
Wasnt toasted marshmellas
And they didnt fall asleep in the hay
But it had been a hard winter
So he had em all for dinner
And they didnt find their boots until may
Well, the folks in lake city
Showed very little pity
So they sentenced him to hang next day
But before they could noose im
Old al got loose an
Hes a-lookin for you, today
Boohoohaha [courtesy of chip davis.]
[chorus]
Comin back for more
Comin back for more
Baby, comin back for more
Als cafe
Comin back for more
Comin back for more
Baby, comin back for more
(now way up in the snow
Where the scrub oaks grow
And the coneys and the picas play )
Where the marmots abound
All a-diggin in the ground
And the wind blows cold all day
Theres a little pile a stones
On a little pile a bones
Thats a-what the archaeologists say
But the folks in lake city
Well, they sing a different ditty
It would like to make your hair turn gray
Now, its kinda hard to find
But itll altercate your mind
If you happen to go the right way
You take slumgullion pass
And dont stop for no gas
Until you get yourself to als caf
It was the genuine, original
Highly pathological
Finger-lickin digital caf
It was al packers legendary
Culinary fast-food
Cannibal bar and buffet
Some dark night
Youre gonna see a weird light
Up on cannibal plateau, they say boohoohaha [chip again.]
Its a scrub oak fire
Like a funeral pyre
Old packers been a-cookin all day
And when the coyotes howl
And the cougars on the prowl
They aint lookin for your customary prey aahoohoohoohoo [yeah, its chip.]
Nah, theyre waitin for bones
In a pile a hot stones
At old al packers cafe bleah! [could it be... davis? ]
