Zack and Phil made burgs on the grill
And fell prey to sonorous laughter
'Cause shacks were few and slacks were lewd
In the beach town of Gringrosher
And there they stayed with sweet summery bouquets
Sprawling gardens rich with floppy farters
Who smelled like roses on decorative coffins
Of long dead and forgotten corpses
There in the sand lay a pebble so grand
For it spoke and sounded sharper
Than any other pebble if there were any other
That bespoke and made one slaughter
