In all their boring glory
Making rock operas that smelled like dirt
With suites and synths and borey
Sleepytown, yes sleepytown
Shows us to our slumber
As Tommy dude or giant pigs
This way start to lumber.
But then I drove a Ford Escort,
Which had naught but a tape deck.
So out I dragged a Who cassette,
And lo! The ghost of Gregory Peck!
"Young man," the spirit said to me,
"Won't you reconsider?
The Who put out some good singles.
Yes sir, they can deliver."
Ol' Greg was right, that fateful day:
The early Who were rockin,
And later Who was interesting.
I was a giant Christmas stocking.
Yes, when Christmas morning rolled around
I met a charming little girl
She reached inside and found some Floyd
And into me did hurl.