When I was a boy, just about the eighth-a grade, Mama used to say don't stay out-a late with the bad-a boys, always shoot-a pool, Giuseppe going to flunk-a school. Boy, it make-a me sick, all the t'ing I gotta do I can't-a get-a no kicks, always got to follow rules. Boy, it make-a me sick, just to make-a lousy bucks. Got to feel-a like a fool and-a mama used to say all-a time. What's-a matter you? Hey! Gotta no respect. What-a you t'ink you do? Why you look-a so sad? It's-a not so bad, it's-a nice-a place. Ah, shaddap-a you face!