Sausos N Tinnies by The Little Stevies Lyrics
Got a car that don’t handle corrugation too well
Got a tent that don’t deal with the winds from hell
Only got two logs to burn the rest of our fire
We got plenty of tinnies to swill our desire
Bloodhounds await their Saturday clash
Its too bad we couldn’t find that little wood stash
We’re down on the foot, the camp fire we’ve put
And there’s a bourbon or two in me
And there’s a bloody great moth on your knee
The three of us trying to share the same bed
In the morning you’ll cook us sausos and eggs
It don’t matter the car it looks like a bomb
Cause when you drive it fast it cruises along
We didn’t expect the FUG to blow smoke
Looks like the radiators gonna make us broke
We’re down on the foot, the camp fire we’ve put
And there’s a bourbon or two in me
And there’s a bloody great moth on your knee
Looks like the boys aren’t gonna make the game
I guess the team just won’t play the same
We’re down on the Yorks, where we can’t be sure
Speculate he might, the saulo’s are on your right
We’re down on the foot, the camp fire we’ve put
And there’s a bourbon or two in me
And there’s a bloody great moth on your knee
A fucking great moth on your knee
Got a tent that don’t deal with the winds from hell
Only got two logs to burn the rest of our fire
We got plenty of tinnies to swill our desire
Bloodhounds await their Saturday clash
Its too bad we couldn’t find that little wood stash
We’re down on the foot, the camp fire we’ve put
And there’s a bourbon or two in me
And there’s a bloody great moth on your knee
The three of us trying to share the same bed
In the morning you’ll cook us sausos and eggs
It don’t matter the car it looks like a bomb
Cause when you drive it fast it cruises along
We didn’t expect the FUG to blow smoke
Looks like the radiators gonna make us broke
We’re down on the foot, the camp fire we’ve put
And there’s a bourbon or two in me
And there’s a bloody great moth on your knee
Looks like the boys aren’t gonna make the game
I guess the team just won’t play the same
We’re down on the Yorks, where we can’t be sure
Speculate he might, the saulo’s are on your right
We’re down on the foot, the camp fire we’ve put
And there’s a bourbon or two in me
And there’s a bloody great moth on your knee
A fucking great moth on your knee