Frumpy Man
Music: Emerson, Lake and Palmer
Lyrics: Timothy Price

He had black mittens
And lawn chairs by the shore
All made of rattan
In red crushed velour

Ooooh, what a frumpy man he was
Ooooh, what a frumpy man he was

White face, skin weathered
A few hairs on his head
Drove an AMC Pacer
In autumn red

Ooooh, what a frumpy man he was
Ooooh, what a frumpy man he was

He liked to roast smores
On a candle while he sang
No honor, no glory
No women what a shame

Ooooh, what a frumpy man he was
Ooooh, what a frumpy man he was

With a Bud Light beside him
He brooded as he sighed
A gutter-ball had cursed him
Into last place, he did slide

Ooooh, what a frumpy man he was
Ooooh, what a frumpy man he was