Come and listen to my story ‘bout a man named Mitt,
A rich Mormon boy tryin’ to get his campaign lit,
And then one day he was talkin’ to the press,
And out of his mouth came a terrible mess.
He told them boys he’d been huntin’ quite a while,
Shootin’ up them varmints, livin’ country style.
But now it seems he’d gone huntin’ only twice,
And his story’s got to soundin’ like the usual campaign lies.
Bull, that is... Campaign codswaddle...
So his staff said "Mitt, better give the tale some spin.
Shoot some quail in Georgia if you want a chance to win.
Better join the NRA now on your trail to victory,
‘Cause they never hunt for truth down in Washington, D.C."
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