No thanks, I'm stuffed.
A package came from Grandma’s house yesterday,
And before I opened it I knew,
That inside was my Grandmother’s fruitcake,
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Each week(ish), I send out a short collection of things that caught my eye, made me think, or made me laugh.
‘Cause the package was dripping with goo.
So I knew I had to call her up to thank her,
For the gift I knew that I could use,
As a doorstop or maybe an anchor,
Don’t drop it on your foot, it’ll leave a bruise
My Grandma said “Honey, you’re so sweet to call,
I’m coming right over tonight.
And I’m bringing more fruitcake, so we can eat it all,
Can’t wait to see your face, when you take a bite.”
So in case this the last song that I sing to you,
Just remember all the good times that we’ve had.
You know the thought of eating a bite or two,
Explains why my Grandfather, always seemed so sad.
CHORUS (repeat ad nauseam)