This Is Sally Hatchet

Born the daughter of a comedian

Middle of the eighties

Someone turn that awful mouth-breathing down

Or else

Sally Hatchet lives in a hole in the ground

The longer it keeps raining

The more she has to struggle to maintain a wonderful time

Oh, yeah

Go on and laugh it up without me

I've got smoke in my lungs

And a past-life in the trunk

Pretty rattled by the way that she

Empties a few clips out

Do I have a choice now?

"Point that thing away from me, Lady!"