Um, this next one is a, a comedy number
This one is written by an American called Biff Rose
Um, Biff Rose is a, a, a legendary character now
He lives just outside of San Francisco, um, on a mountain in
A cabin, and he's got a bicycle, and he writes a lot of songs
And he cycles down from the cabin to
Do gigs, um, in which he never sings
He never sings at any of his gigs
He just talks about, uh, shaving and what he saw on
The way down from his cabin, um, and how many punctures
He's had and what have you, and then goes away again
Nobody's really heard him sing, but he does write some good
Songs and he's made a couple of LPs, and this is one song
Am I rambling?
Sorry
This is, um, one called Buzz the Fuzz
Once there was a fellow
And his name was Buzz
He was just a rookie cop
Just a baby buzz
He patrolled the Sunset Strip
In the land of the free
And the home of the hip
He protected you and me
From evil women like
Poor Alice D
Alice was the girl
That all good hippies dread
And they called her sweet Alice D-head
Alice, it was plain to see
Was full of pot and STP
She'd attract a great big crowd
Because her inner peace
Was much too loud
Good Buzz did the thing
That all the good buzz must
Stuck his gun in Alice's back
And said, "This is the best." Shone the flashlight in her eyes
She began to hypnotize
Buzz said, "What a wild sensation
Guess this must be hallu- hallucina- na-
Na- tion, mm." Love is so sensational
When you fall in love with eyes dilational, la la
Now they're taking pills and shots
Buzz is not afraid of Watts
Buzz and Alice D have shown the way
Of where the fuzz might be someday
Buzz is still a cop, of course
He's the pusher on the force
He's protecting you and me
From evil women like
Poor Alice D
A harrowing story indeed
That's a Biff Rose song, Buzz the Fuzz