Phillip Pharr Heywood Banks

There was a man named Phillip Pharr
Who knew he'd never win
Running from the law
He had lived a life of sin
He had tried the boxing ring
But it gave him the cramps
And all he ever liked to do
Was just collecting stamps

Phillip Pharr
Phillip Pharr
Where did you go wrong?
You’re a fatalist, pugilist, fugitive philatelist
And this is your song

He had an innocent look about him
But nasty things he’d mutter
And the noises he’d make while asleep
Would make the whole house shudder
He worked at the cucumber processing plant
Six days nine to five
But to try to make ends meet
He’d bartend on the side

Phillip Pharr
Phillip Pharr
Where did you go wrong?
You’re a wide-eyed, snide-snoring, pickle packing, liquor pouring
Fatalist, pugilist, fugitive philatelist
And this is your song