Row of Houses

Packing father Tin can, shooter, Makes us ready He lies in waiting And I hope we find him Before they find him Ooooooh, ooooooh, ooooooh, Oooooooh, So I tell stories Make my friends tick They like me for it So bring on the papers ‘Cause we’re ready for ‘em What makes us ready? Ooooooh oooooh, oooooh, Ooooooh, The sight of Brower The taste of something The thought of houses, Rows of houses The sight of Brower The taste of something, The thought of houses, Rows of houses Rows of houses Rows