Some think that the Lord is fat
Some live on hope, and some on dope
And some that he is bony
And some on alimony
But as for me, I think that he
But bring me in a pail of gin
Is like an abalone
And a tub of abalone
Some drink rain, and some champagne
By Carmel Bay the people say
And whiskey by the pony
We feed the lazaroni
But I will try a dash of rye
On Boston beans and fresh sardines
And a hunk of abalone
And toothsome abalone
Oh, some like ham, and some like jam
He hides in caves beneath the waves
And some like macaroni
His ancient patrimony
But our tomcat, he lives on fat
And so ‘tis shown that faith alone
And juicy abalone
Reveals the abalone
The more we take, the more they make
Some stick to biz, some flirt with Liz
In deep-sea matrimony
Down on the sands of Coney
Pray suicide will ne’er be tried
But we by Hell, stay in Carmel
By the fertile abalone
And nail the abalone
I telegraph my better half
By Morse or by Marconi
But when in need of greater speed
I send an abalone
Oh, Mission Point’s a friendly joint
Where every crab’s a crony
And true and kind you’ll ever find
The faithful abalone
He wanders free beside the sea
Where e’er the coast is stony
He flaps his wings, and madly sings
The plaintive abalone