# Pork’n Bitches & Baked Bean Sammiches! [Cold Open — Vocal hits immediately] Pork’n bitches And baked bean sammiches! Painted ten feet tall On the back of the Green Weenie! [Verse 1] About forty of us met on Moore Road At the place we called the Swamp, Coolers packed and tents tied down, Ready to get gone. Curt and Al were leading With that tow-behind machine— A ragged little camper Everybody called the Green Weenie. Across the back in shoe-polish white, A message for the ages: “PORK’N BITCHES AND BAKED BEAN SAMMICHES!” And we dragged that declaration Down three highways full of strangers. [Chorus] Pork’n bitches And baked bean sammiches! Three days loose in a cow-pasture madhouse With forty swamp degenerates! Green Weenie out in front, Livestock somewhere up ahead— Thousands crawling toward the gates While 98 Rock shook the dead! Pork’n bitches And baked bean sammiches! Some memories fade— But that shit stays permanent! [Verse 2] Three roads met outside the pasture. All three backed for miles. Cars and trucks and campers, Motorcycles stacked in files. Every kind of transportation That could creep, roll, smoke or steer, Grinding down the highway shoulders Half a mile an hour in gear. People hanging out of windows, Music bleeding vehicle to vehicle, A stop-and-go migration Of the chemically unbelievable. Zephyrhills was waiting— Route 302 had lost control. One enormous cow field About to swallow us all whole. [Chorus] Pork’n bitches And baked bean sammiches! Three days loose in a cow-pasture madhouse With forty swamp degenerates! Green Weenie out in front, Livestock somewhere up ahead— Thousands crawling toward the gates While 98 Rock shook the dead! [Verse 3] Bone Neck and Dave came up All the way from Palm Beach town With three enormous medical tanks And enough gas to go around. Buzz and me did more of it Than anybody in the place— Three tanks hissing through the weekend While time vanished without trace. Bobbie D. and Little B., Jeff and Joy, Christine and me— Too many names behind the haze, Too many faces in between. Oxy eighties, acid sheets, Mushrooms, Molly, Zannys too— Too many drugs to even count, Too many things we shouldn’t do. Three nights vanished in a blur Of mud and noise and blazing light. We woke up asking where we were, Then did it all again that night. [Bridge — Rhythm drops back] Livestock ran for eighteen years. I made it there for twelve. Every year became a legend I can barely fucking tell. Some memories survived like photographs. Some dissolved like smoke. Some come back when someone says a name Or tells an ancient joke. But one thing never faded. I can see it plain as day— Those giant shoe-polish letters Leading forty fools away: [Break — One voice, completely dry] Pork’n bitches… And baked bean sammiches. [Final Chorus] Pork’n bitches And baked bean sammiches! The Green Weenie led the caravan Of forty swamp degenerates! Three roads choking, engines smoking, Livestock roaring up ahead— Thousands pouring through a cow field Like the whole damn state had fled! Pork’n bitches And baked bean sammiches! I’ve forgotten half the people. I’ve forgotten half the night. But I still see that camper And those letters painted white. [Outro] Some memories need photographs. Some only need The right four words.
