Mr. Tuna's Big Old Place

Let me watch you Mr. Tuna
While you are shooting a baby
While you are shooting a baby
A wreath as big as an ox cart
Wouldn’t suffice because you’re too grand
Because you are too steady—
A «can-do» guy
While you’re up there with your horehound candy
And your walking stick
I’m below with a lute tied to my chicken
I have no one to confide in but myself
When it comes to you and me, my dear
No one knows that you’re really a girl
No one can imagine it
So I guess you’ll have to keep on wearing pants
Even though you really shred in a skirt
I can’t tell my mom
I can’t tell my boyfriend
That Mr. Tuna’s been a girl all her life
And I want to go out with her