I don't think this would be pleasin' to my dad,
And my sister believes I have gone mad.
Still, doing it my way—
Get that cranium locked up today
In a can, where' they'll cry' his head.

They snip it off from the shoulders and decrease any heat.
The new term I use is "neck to feet."
They're gonna freeze it now
In liquid nitrogen somehow.
That's my plan—to cry' his head

Don't wanna try it near Kenmore Square;
The passersby would start to stare.
I'm gonna hide that head away-ay,
'Cause he'll come back again some day.

And when he does he'll see: Sox, champs of the world.
I just wonder if his hair will be curled?

Yes, I had to break him in two.
But ain't that what a loving son should do?
So I'll spend to cry' his head.