I’m exhausted, friend! I need a rest.
Though I failed, I know I did my best.
Shall I tell you my tale?
It’ll make your face pale,
But I’m sure, at least, you’ll be impressed.

I’ve an orange-tree-type ranch in Los Angeles.
I sell grapefruit, limes, kumquats, and tangelos.
One day I met a guy
Who flew down from the sky,
And he promised me he wasn’t “dangelous.”

Yeah, that was the guy’s pronunciation;
He told me he’s not from this nation,
Or in fact from this earth;
Though he laughed with great mirth,
He said what I heard was a translation.

Anyroad, this celestial creature
Said to me, “Pal, I’m happy to meet ya!”
He said I was the one
Who would get the job done.
“What job?”
“Just don’t let the Peskertons eat ya.”

“Who? The Peskertons? Are they from space?”
He responded, "Yeah! They’ll chew your face.
“And don’t make me repeat,
“’Cos now here comes their fleet!”
That was when I saw saucers give chase.