The Mod went down to OT. He was lookin' for a soul to steal.
He was in a bind 'cause he was way behind. He was willing to make a deal
When he came across this young man sawin' on a fiddle and playin' it hot.
And the Mod jumped upon a hickory stump and said "Boy, let me tell you what."
"I guess you didn't know it, but I'm a fiddle player, too.
And if you'd care to take a dare I'll make a bet with you.
Now you play a pretty good fiddle, boy, but give the Mod his due.
I'll bet a fiddle of gold against your soul 'cause I think I'm better than you."
The boy said, "MY NAME'S THAISTANDARDSOAP, AND IT MIGHT BE A SIN,
BUT I'LL TAKE YOUR BET; AND YOU'RE GONNA REGRET 'CAUSE I'M THE BEST THERES EVER BEEN."
THAISTANDARDSOAP, rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard.
'Cause Hell's broke loose in OffTopic and the Mod deals the cards.
And if you win you get this shiny fiddle made of gold,
But if you lose the Mod gets your soul.
The Mod opened up his case and he said, "I'll start this show."
And warnings flew from his fingertips as he rosined up his bow.
And he pulled the bow across the strings and it made an evil hiss.
And a band of Minimods joined in and it sounded something like this.
When the Mod finished, THAISTANDARDSOAP said, "WELL, YOU'RE PRETTY GOOD OL' SON,
BUT SIT DOWN IN THAT CHAIR RIGHT THERE AND LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT'S DONE."
"Fire on the Mountain." Run, boys, run!
The Mod's in the house of the rising sun;
Chicken's in the bread pan picking out dough.
Granny, does your dog bite? No, child, no.
The Mod raised his banhammer because he knew that he'd been beat.
And he slayed that THAISTANDARDSOAP on the ground at his the day count of three,
And the Mod said, "THAISTANDARDSOAP, just come on back. If you ever wanna try again,
I done told you once—you son of a brick—I'm the best that's ever been."
And he played:
"Mod on the Mountain." Run, boys, run!
The Mod's in the house of the rising sun;
The chicken's in the bread pan picking out dough.
Granny, will your dog bite? No, child, no. |