Randy ate a pair of pickles before bed, on a dare, But, then he tossed all night with a nasty nightmare, From his belly Randy dreamt, There was an exit attempt, Out his bellybutton slipped the pickles with a pear.
My snow covered shack up on the hill,
Came crashing down upon my still,
It buried my corn, my sugar, my mash,
It even buried two cans of corned beef hash,
All I saved were some pickles; I think they're dill.