I'm up here in the nuthouse

A campfire song I learned at Lake Celeste as a child:

I’m up here in the nuthouse

my brains are in a rut

my counselor says I’m crazy

but he’s just off his nut

I’m just as sane as you are

and I can prove it too

just listen to this lullabye

that proves I’m not cuckoo

I was born one night one morn’

when the whistles went boom-boom

you could bake a steak, you could fry a cake

when the mudpies are in bloom

do six and six make nine

does ice grow on a vine

was Old Black Joe an Eskimo in the good old summertime?

Oh, a loop-de-loop in the noodle soup

and give your socks a shine

I’m guilty, judge, I stole the fudge

three cheers for Auld lang syne

I cannot tell a lie

I stole that case of rye

it’s on the bridge, beneath the sea, above the deep blue sky!

Oh I’m a villain, a dirty rotten villain

I leave a trail of blood where ‘er I go

I take delight in starting up a fight

I hit babies on the head ‘til they’re dead

I have gotten a rep for being rotten

I put poison in my grandma’s Shredded Wheat

I eat

raw meat

I hit babies on the head ‘til they’re dead

I fell out of a window, a second story window

caught my eyelash on the sill, the sill

Quick! Get the axe, there’s a fly on baby’s mustache

Man’s best friend is his mother

you’re a liar

no I amn’t

you’ve been drinking

no I haven’t


pardon me

absence makes the heart grow fonder,

peroxide makes the hair grow blonder

my grandma bought a horse

yay! poison ivy!

terrible blue muffin