“There's no other love, like the love for a brother;
There's no other love, like the love from a brother.”
Astrid Alauda
While I was gone for the day
Relaxing at a Flea Removal Spa
I got yet another urgent phone call
It was from our very perturbed Ma
“Your two brothers are bickering again,
I want you to make them stop, Pee Wee.”
So, on behalf of our beloved old mother,
I immediately contacted my brother, Jersey
“Oh, all right, Pee Wee, just for dear old Mom,
I’m gonna stop fighting with brother Edvard.
Hey! I know! How about a big barbeque?
We can have it on the 4th, in my backyard!”
But now, it seems I have yet another huge problem
I remember the last BBQ held at old Jersey’s place
His skunk and possum road kill dishes really stank
And he had no beer – I still remember Edvard’s face
It seems that each and every time we get together
Jersey Ed and Old Edvard get into another fight
And good old Rufuz and I have to break them up
Which fills neither one of us with very much delight
But I really hate to send him an RSVP that I can’t make it
But Jersey’s cooking really does suck, and I can’t fake it
And he always spends so very much time, trying to make it
But maybe if we’re real lucky,
It will rain, really, really hard,
And he won’t be able to bake it,
And if we’re really, really lucky,
He’ll never have that recipe again
Lord, please let it rain this Fourth of July,
Because I know in my heart, Edvard’s gonna cry,
When he finds out – there’s no Coors – yet again…
Dear Mother,
At least I tried,
But if you ate Jersey’s Road Kill,
I think, you, too, would cry.
And I can already hear old Edvard,
Lamenting the fact there’s no Coors;
“Damn It. Why? Oh, Why? Oh, Why??!!!”
Your Loving Son,
Pee Wee
PS: If we don’t drink all the Mad Dog 20/20,
I’ll send you a bottle.
PPS: But if it does rain on the 4th,
I’m sure you’ll be hearing from Jersey:
“Dear Ma,
I don’t think that I can take it,
‘Cause it took so long for me to make it,
And I’ll never have that road kill recipe again;
Oh No, Oh No, Oh No!
PS:
Ya got any Bug Recipes, Ma??!!
Your Cooking Son,
The Jersey Devil”
And, of course,
Old Edvard will be penning his, too:
“Dear Ma,
No damned Coors – Again!
Your Really Upset Son,
Edvard”
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