Spaghetti Western
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SPAGHETTI FREDDI
Ridin' through ol' Cheyenne Land,
Spittin' out the flyin' sand,
Arrows screaming by his head,
Oh dear God,
how he's, not, dead. (Freddiiiii)
Ridin' just as fast as he can,
Racin' 'cross this open land,
When he hears that supper bell,
If he's late, there will, be, Hell.
Spaghetti Freddi,
Spaghetti Freddi,
Spaghetti Freddi,
Ne'er get 'tween he
and his spaghetti
Pocket full o' nickels now,
Nothin's gonna slow him down,
S'ghetti, fish, I-talian bread,
And beer f'r a nickel, what, a, spread.
Spaghetti Freddi once killed a man,
Handful o' s'ghetti in his hand.
That man's name was Confetti Joe,
Confetti Joe now is, no, mo',
Confetti crossed Spaghetti while
He sat there at his s'ghetti pile,
Spaghetti Freddi drew at his head,
Confetti Joe, BANG, now, he's, dead.
Spaghetti Freddi,
Spaghetti Freddi,
Spaghetti Freddi,
No one will mess with
Spaghetti Freddi any more,
Spaghetti Freddi,
Ne'er get 'tween he and his,
Spaghetti Freddi,
No one will mess with
Spaghetti Freddi any more.