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Coming of the Frogs

 
(Tune: "The Battle Hymn of the Republic")

Mine eyes have seen the horror of the coming of the frogs.
They are sneaking through the swamps, they are lurking under
logs.
You can hear their mournful croaking through the early morning
fog.
The frogs keep hopping on.

Chorus:

Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit, croak, croak
Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit, croak, croak 
Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit, croak, croak 
The frogs keep hopping on.

The frogs have grown in numbers, and their croaking fills the
air. 
There's no place to escape to 'cause the frogs are everywhere.
They've eaten all the flies and now they're hungry as a bear. 
The frogs keep hopping on.

I used to like the bullfrogs, like to feel their slimy skin.
Liked to put them in my teacher's desk and take them home again. 
Now they're knocking at the front door, I can't let those frogs
come in. 
The frogs keep hopping on.

They have hopped into the living room and headed down the hall.
They have trapped me in the corner and my back's against thewall.
And when I open up my mouth to give a desperate call.
This is all that's heard: