In the summertime it is hot enough to fry your brains, some eggs, a pizza pie. In the summertime it never rains, it never even drizzles. If you try real hard you can hear the lizards sizzle. Like someone dropped the bomb and it never even made the news. In this valley of productivity agriculture here is plain to see. Fine meat fine cows hot vegetation fed, fine meat fine cows from the best mutations bred. If you were here you would moo too. My hair quit growing, my socks are glowing, I got the Tickapoo blues.

Out here in the valley of dry bones one can hear some unsettling tones, the wail of fear, the blast of guns, waiting for the big ones, the setting loose of nuclear glue. This is the Tickapoo blues. The sky is full of buzzards and various birds of prey, some of the buzzards wear sunglasses and have wings of metallic silver grey. They fly around and shoot at nothing, they have nothing better to do. My hair quit growing, my socks are glowing, I have the Tickapoo blues.

I sit and wonder why we do these things, reaping all the benefits that technology brings. Why can't we be happy with watching the setting sun? Why do we have to build the hydrogen one? I pray for me, I pray for you. My hair quit growing, my socks are glowing, I got the Tickapoo blues.

Folks around here are friendly enough but if you have been naughty and not too nice they descend from the sky in a mechanical device. And if you can't answer the questions they put to you, you will get a lifetime of free meals and a room without a view. So if you visit this charming valley of Tickapoo, I got some good advice to give to you. Stay in your car and don’t even stop to whiz, drive real fast and mind your own biz. Watch out for cows and shiny new jeeps. There are many splats and spots where cows have ended up as heaps. And if you are alone in Tickapoo with your car up some cow's bugaboo, you will have a severe case of the Big “T” Blues. Your hair will quit growing and your socks will be glowing and you will have the Ticakpoo Blues---real bad.