Stacey Grove

Lyrics

Stacey Grove, he's a roaming prophet of mine Hat full of wine Stacey Grove, he's a roving catcher of skies Forecaster of eyes, so no lies He's a nice cat Oh, he's a nice cat Dungaree dome, is decked like a pagan temple to Zeus He drinks acorn juice Roasting his feet, by the furnace of peat He roars at the boars, who massively sleep at his feet He's a nice cat Oh, he's a nice cat Do-do-do-do Stacey-Stacey Grove Do-do-do-do Stacey-Stacey Grove Oh, he's a nice cat Oh, he's a nice cat Antelope head, his beard skylark red Is tucked 'neath the good of his summer sun hood And now that the gate of his evening is late He sits on a log picking ticks off the back of his dog He's a nice cat Oh, he's a nice cat Do-do-do-do Stacey-Stacey Grove Do-do-do-do Stacey-Stacey Grove Oh, he's a nice cat Oh, he's a nice cat Do-do-do-do Stacey-Stacey Grove Do-do-do-do Stacey-Stacey Grove