Types: Filk, Parody, Humor
Well, I'm speechless, E-monk. You must be as bad with your spare time as I am with mine. Of course, you realize this opens up a whole new area of literary abuse; personally I've been itching to do a parody of Theo LeSieg's Ten Apples Up On Top.

[inevitable_backwoods_comparison]In acknowledgement of your hard work, and in a further attempt to exorcise childhood media-induced demons, may I offer this ripe bit o' tripe. (For those of you who aren't familiar with the original, you may never know how lucky you are.)

The "Piney Flats" Theme to the tune of "The Beverly Hillbillies" opening theme


Cue banjo music. No, not "Duelling Banjos." Jaded urbanites...


Come and listen to a tale 'bout a Tennessee town,
On th' road to Johnson City is where it can still be found;
Th' tiny town o' Piney Flats may look like it's th' pits,
But Piney Flats is where one gits th' best o' slivovitz!

Schnapps, that is. Kosher-style. Made from plums.

Well, th' town of Piney Flats has got a heap o' piney vats,
With a heap o' purple plums fermentin' 'twixt th' slimy slats;
They pour it into bags o' felt ta filter out th' bits
Then they stick it in containers and they call it "slivovitz."

Well, they pack it up in Piney Flats and ship it worldly-wide
Fer drinkin', an' fer bathin' in, an' fer insecticide;
No matter who yer askin', folks from all around admits,
"Ya kin always buy a bitter, not a better, slivovitz!"

Well, th' fruits they use in Piney Flats is somethin' t' behold
'Cos they soak 'em all in batter fer t' keep from gettin' old;
Th' fruit without the batter is so bitter it's th' pits,
But th' batter's never bitter, an' makes better slivovitz.

Well, th' first thing ya notice is th' town has lots o' gnats,
Th' gnats that feed th' bats that feed th' rats that feed th' cats;
'Twixt th' chasin' and th' chawin' it's enough t' give ya fits,
But that's th' price ya pay t' make a better slivovitz.

Well, th' gnats that don't get et up swarm around th' town at night,
Ya kin get some really nasty zits th' way them bastards bite.
But I reckon that th' townsfolk, they don't care about th' zits --
They's ripped to th' **** 'cos they're sippin' slivovitz!

Mammaries, that is. Done before. Cain't help it, limited rhymin' scheme.

Won'tcha come on down t' Piney Flats an' visit fer a spell,
Th' friendly folks who live here sure would think yer mighty swell
Fer puttin' up in Piney Flats instead o' at th' Ritz,
An' fer passin' up th' bubbly fer a jug o' slivovtz!

(Apologies to Paul Henning [well, maybe not -- he *did* give us "Green Acres"], Earl Scruggs and Lester Flats)

The Opeing Theme to "The Beverly Hillbillies"

Come and listen to a story about a man named Jed
A poor mountaineer, barely kept his family fed,
Then one day he was shootin' at some food,
And up through the ground came a bubblin' crude.

Oil that is, black gold, Texas tea.

Well the first thing you know ol' Jed's a millionaire,
Kinfolk said "Jed, move away from there!"
Said "Californy is the place you ought to be,"
So they loaded up the truck and moved to Beverly.

Hills, that is. Swimmin' pools, movie stars.


[/inevitable_backwoods_comparison]

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