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yes, I can.
Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
(Tommy used to work on the docks)
Thy micturations are to me
(Union's been on strike)
As plurdled gabbleblotchits
(He's down on his luck it's tough)
On a lurgid bee
(So tough)
That mordiously hath bitled out
(Gina works the diner all day)
Its earted jurtles
(Working for her man)
Into a rancid festering
(She brings home her pay for love)
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles
(For love)
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts
(She says "we've got to hold on to what we've got)
And living glupules frart and slipulate
('cause it doesn't make a difference if we make it or not)
Like jowling meated liverslime
(We've got each other and that's a lot for love)
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes
(We'll give it a shot")
And hooptiously drangle me
(We're half way there)
With crinkly bindlewurdles,
(Livin' on a prayer)
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon
(Take my hand and we'll make it i swear)
See if I don't.
(Livin' on a prayer)
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