Ya better shy from the road
if smashed is how ya feel.
Better shy from the road—
you’ll crash, then how’ll ya feel?
’cause ya know you’re just an old souse
who’s had a little too much rye.

Better walk instead, old souse,
because you’re drunk, oh so.
Better walk instead, old souse,
you’re more drunk than old Joe. [McCarthy]

There’s vans full of people—
into them you might go.

Better stroll, wasted, stroll [3x]
Better stroll, though hike’s long.

Hoof it walking, hoof it!

Ya gotta stroll, stroll, stroll
’cause up you’re filled from “Skol”s all night.
Stroll, stroll, stroll,
upfilled from “Skol”s.
[incoherent babbling]

Crashes take place,
crashes take place
when one is plowed—
you’re drunken-plowed.
Save some kiddies,
save some kiddies—
hike now!

Well, you woke up this morning
and you got yourself a beer.
Yeah, you stoked up with gorging
on shots dunked into your beer.
You’re stewed—that’s for certain,
and your sentience ain’t too clear.

Better stroll, wasted, stroll,
better stroll, take a stroll,
better stroll, make it stroll.
Better stroll—to drive’s wrong!