the mexican prison blues
A momentous occasion like the guilty plea of one Michael "Ron Mexico" Vick couldn't pass without commemorating it somehow. In the manner of the greatest songwriters... Cash's "Folsom Prison Blues", Dylan's "Hurricane", Yankovic's "Eat It"... I felt I needed to immortalize the man, the myth, the legend. Therefore, enjoy...
The Mexican Prison Blues
Or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love Fighting Innocent Animals To The Death
by MDT
Or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love Fighting Innocent Animals To The Death
by MDT
was a long time ago, 'bout a decade or so, first heard of a man named Vick
had a cannon for an arm and legs like an ostrich, man alive his moves were sick
and he coulda been the best if he'd put 'em to the test 'cause he could really put on a show
but instead we sing the story of a different kind of glory: of a man named Mexico
whoa-oh Ron Mexico
you could outrun any lineman
but you couldn't beat 5-0
and I wont forget the day
that the SPCA
finally sacked...
Ron Mexico
well we shoulda seen it coming when we saw his brother running round Blacksburg with a piece
and the time he tried to whack another man for a Big Mac we saw a fine career cease
but Ron was never lazy and we didn't know the crazy was genetic in its roots
so we all just kept a-cheerin' and defenses kept a-fearin' mighty Ronnie's magic boots
[banjo solo]
but beneath the Falcons jersey ardent fans had cause to worry 'cause they knew a secret solemn
that Ron had to endure a very special sort of cure for a hoochie he once bottomed
his herpes was a-flarin' deep beneath the pants he's wearing every time he took the pitch
although the league tried to hide it there was no need to deny it: south of the border Ron had an itch
whoa-oh Ron Mexico
though you weren't Limbaugh's favorite
you could still put on a show
and I wont forget the day
that the SPCA
finally sacked...
Ron Mexico
trouble started mounting for Ron, who started counting all his fines and lawyer's fees
first he gave the fans the finger then he had a scent that lingered in the airport: it was weed
but the feds noticed his gambling and for all Mexico's scrambling there was no daylight to find
they would send him to a place where halfbacks would race to hit the hole in his behind
so his friends, they were snitches, and the same as his bitches, they all went to the stand
but instead of procreatin' they would be elucidatin' 'bout the Kumite he planned
pitting pitbulls and poodles, mastiffs and labradoodles fighting fiercely to the last
and if they didn't pass muster, they were cut from the roster with an Ookie shotgun blast
[mournful violin solo, accompanied by the eerie howl of junkyard dogs from the afterlife]
now remember my son, for a man like the Ron may never again come
broken in prison, he has not risen to save us from the thumb
of our tireless oppressors, the alien aggressors! how could we have known Ron's worth
only he could have saved us when the canines enslaved us: giant pitbulls now rule the earth
whoa-oh Ron Mexico
you've always been a hero
even if we didn't know
and I won't forget the day...
...might've been the CIA...
that finally sacked
Ron Mexico
[harmonica outro]
had a cannon for an arm and legs like an ostrich, man alive his moves were sick
and he coulda been the best if he'd put 'em to the test 'cause he could really put on a show
but instead we sing the story of a different kind of glory: of a man named Mexico
whoa-oh Ron Mexico
you could outrun any lineman
but you couldn't beat 5-0
and I wont forget the day
that the SPCA
finally sacked...
Ron Mexico
well we shoulda seen it coming when we saw his brother running round Blacksburg with a piece
and the time he tried to whack another man for a Big Mac we saw a fine career cease
but Ron was never lazy and we didn't know the crazy was genetic in its roots
so we all just kept a-cheerin' and defenses kept a-fearin' mighty Ronnie's magic boots
[banjo solo]
but beneath the Falcons jersey ardent fans had cause to worry 'cause they knew a secret solemn
that Ron had to endure a very special sort of cure for a hoochie he once bottomed
his herpes was a-flarin' deep beneath the pants he's wearing every time he took the pitch
although the league tried to hide it there was no need to deny it: south of the border Ron had an itch
whoa-oh Ron Mexico
though you weren't Limbaugh's favorite
you could still put on a show
and I wont forget the day
that the SPCA
finally sacked...
Ron Mexico
trouble started mounting for Ron, who started counting all his fines and lawyer's fees
first he gave the fans the finger then he had a scent that lingered in the airport: it was weed
but the feds noticed his gambling and for all Mexico's scrambling there was no daylight to find
they would send him to a place where halfbacks would race to hit the hole in his behind
so his friends, they were snitches, and the same as his bitches, they all went to the stand
but instead of procreatin' they would be elucidatin' 'bout the Kumite he planned
pitting pitbulls and poodles, mastiffs and labradoodles fighting fiercely to the last
and if they didn't pass muster, they were cut from the roster with an Ookie shotgun blast
[mournful violin solo, accompanied by the eerie howl of junkyard dogs from the afterlife]
now remember my son, for a man like the Ron may never again come
broken in prison, he has not risen to save us from the thumb
of our tireless oppressors, the alien aggressors! how could we have known Ron's worth
only he could have saved us when the canines enslaved us: giant pitbulls now rule the earth
whoa-oh Ron Mexico
you've always been a hero
even if we didn't know
and I won't forget the day...
...might've been the CIA...
that finally sacked
Ron Mexico
[harmonica outro]
