Shivaree - Arrivederci
Arrivederci I'm cutting my hair
Tell fish and Tracy
the weather's fair
Been eleven hours we're on a dare
Arrivederci to my old chair
I've been told that
the old who bargain and save
They get sold for the gold
on the little king's grave
So goodbye to screamers
and goodnight Irene
A salty whisker won't
hurt anything