Going down to the bottom Don't give me that worthless glance Give me your mouth Give me your bad, bad mouth
[Chorus] Don't talk to me about my baby Don't talk to me about my baby
She said she couldn't breathe When them little fingers began to move Teeth clenched in her lips in a spasm of horror Them little fingers, wrinkled as prunes
[Chorus]
Going down to the bottom He got on the nigh pole You get in there in the middle Pete and do it for us You clap three times and we go, go, go