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Some Songs We Like To Sing

Dough, Ray, Me Dough, the stuff that buys me beer Ray, the guy who serves me beer Me, the guy who drinks the beer Far, a long long way to the beer So, I’ll have another beer La, I think I'll have a beer Tea, no thanks I'll have a beer Which will bring us back to Down, down, down down	Here’s to Brother Hasher Here’s to brother hasher, brother hasher, brother hasher Here’s to brother hasher, may he chugga-lug He’s happy, he’s jolly He’s fucked up by golly Here’s to brother hasher, may he chugga-lug So drink motherfucker, drink motherfucker Drink motherfucker, drink motherfucker Here’s to brother hasher, may he chugga-lug Drink it down, down, down, down…
His One-Skin Melody - My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean His one skin hangs down to his two skin, His two skin hangs down to his three, His three skin hangs down to his foreskin, His foreskin hangs down to his knee. Roll back, roll back, Roll back my foreskin for me, for me. Roll back, roll back, Please roll back his foreskin for me. Drink it down, down, down, down…	Does a Hasher? Melody - Do Your Balls Hang Low? Does a hasher like to walk, Does a hasher like to run, Does a hasher like to be where they're having all the fun? Can he drink a 12-ounce beer, While his friends all sing and cheer, Now your time has come. So drink it down, down, down . . .
Heineken, Schmeineken Heineken, schmeineken, Fuck that shit! Pabst . . . Blue . . . Ribbon!	Der Pizza Hout Der Pizza Hout, der Pizza Hout, Kentucky Fried Chicken, und der Pizza Hout, Der Pizza Hout, der Pizza Hout, Kentucky Fried Chicken, und der Pizza Hout, MacDonalds, MacDonalds, Kentucky Fried Chicken, und der Pizza Hout, MacDonalds, MacDonalds, Kentucky Fried Chicken, und der Pizza Hout. Drink it down, down, down, down . . .
The Philosophers' Drinking Song Immanuel Kant was a real pissant Who was very rarely stable. Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar Who could think you under the table. David Hume could out-consume Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, And Wittgenstein was a beery swine Who was just as schloshed as Schlegel. There's nothing Nietzche couldn't teach ya 'Bout the raising of the wrist. Socrates, himself, was permanently pissed. John Stuart Mill, of his own free will, On half a pint of shandy was particularly ill. Plato, they say, could stick it away-- Half a crate of whisky every day. Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle. Hobbes was fond of his dram, And René Descartes was a drunken fart. 'I drink, therefore I am.' Yes, Socrates, himself, is particularly missed, A lovely little thinker, But a bugger when he's pissed.	There Was A Little Bird There was a little bird, No bigger than a turd, A-sittin' on a telegraph pole. He ruffled up his neck, And he shat about a peck, As he puckered up his little asshole. Asshole, asshole, asshole, asshole, He puckered up his little asshole.
The Bagpipe Song Here's to the lassie with the black hairy assey, Who was lifting up her kilty at the Jhavelina Hash. (pack does two lines sounding like a bagpipe) Then there was the jockey with his upstanding cocky, Who was riding on the lassie with the black hairy assey, Who was lifting up her kilty at the Jhavelina Hash. (do two lines sounding like a bagpipe) Then there was the Yankee who was wanking in his hanky, At the thought of the jockey with the upstanding cocky, Who was riding on the lassie with the black hairy assey, Who was lifting up her kilty at the Jhavelina Hash. (bagpipe) Then there was the queerie who was leering through his beery, At the sight of the Yankee who was wanking in his hanky, At the thought of the jockey with the upstanding cocky, Who was riding on the lassie with the black hairy assey, Who was lifting up her kilty at the Jhavelina Hash. (bagpipe) Then there was the Harlot making money in the car lot, To support the a' queerie who was leering through his beery, At the sight of the Yankee who was wanking in his hanky, At the thought of the jockey with the upstanding cocky, Who was riding on the lassie with the black hairy assey, Who was lifting up her kilty at the Jhavelina Hash. (bagpipe) Then there was the HASHER who was posing as a flasher, Hustling customers from the Harlot making money in the car lot, To support the a' queerie who was leering through his beery, At the sight of the Yankee who was wanking in his hanky, At the thought of the jockey with the upstanding cocky, Who was riding on the lassie with the black hairy assey, Who was lifting up her kilty at the Jhavelina Hash. (bagpipe) Then there was the Wenchy doing down-down on a benchy, Making money for the HASHER who was posing as a flasher, Hustling customers from the Harlot making money in the car lot, To support the a' queerie who was leering through his beery, At the sight of the Yankee who was wanking in his hanky, At the thought of the jockey with the upstanding cocky, Who was riding on the lassie with the black hairy assey, Who was lifting up her kilty at the Jhavelina Hash. (bagpipe) Now the moral of this ditty is that when in Tucson City, And you're with your favorite girlie, Munching hairs all short and curly, Just remember to take her hashing and to give her a good bashing, And keep her away from the Wenchy doing down-down on a benchy, Making money for the HASHER who was posing as a flasher, Hustling customers from the Harlot making money in the car lot, To support the a' queerie who was leering through his beery, At the sight of the Yankee who was wanking in his hanky, At the thought of the jockey with the upstanding cocky, Who was riding on the lassie with the black hairy assey, Who was lifting up her kilty at the Jhavelina Hash. (bagpipe)	Dead Dog Rover Tune: I'm Looking Over a Four Leaf Clover I'm looking over, My dead dog Rover, That I over ran with the mower. One leg is missing, The other is gone, The third leg is scattered, All over the lawn. You see there's no explaining, The one remaining, It's spinning on the carport floor I'm looking over, My dead dog Rover, That I over ran, hey, that I over ran, hey That I over ran with the mower! I’m looking over My minced dog Rover That I ran over with the mower He’s no longer eating He no longer barks Hit his collar with the blade And then we saw sparks No there’s no use explaining There’s nothing remaining He’s scattered on the lawn, you see I ran over My dead dog Rover And sent him to eternity