Every tune's been collared Every word's been hollered By a certain Mr. Pollard and the songs he sings Every tune's to die for Every word's a cipher About his hunting knife or other valuable things The celebrated Mr. P Performs his tracks express for me They burrow in my head and there they stay And when a tune escapes his brain He simply fills it up again The songs of Mr. Pollard save the day Every tune's been collared Every word's been hollered By a certain Mr. Pollard and the things he thinks His muse produces like a geyser It doesn't matter what he buys her And so it's usually Budweiser that he drinks When laundromats and lullabies Conspire to cut me down to size I tremble like a zebra on display The flies surprise the telephone A new parade to call me home The songs of Mr. Pollard save the day Cry your knife away Pollard saves the day Bands collapse and he will stay Pollard saves the day