He wasn't wearing a brand-new suit
A man could walk four or five miles
I was glad the world was there
My mother said I needed a hair-cut
Now I know how it feels to be famous
His head bitten off by a tiger
Throwing custard pies at our enemies
Miss Binney, Teacher, third grade
I was just the messenger
A tall Mexican who worked for my uncle
A very ordinary dog
He wasn't joking either
A boy on skates
I fell in love with a midget
Have another beer
She didn't say a word
Eventually we would come to blows
If I live to be sixty
My father's micrometer, in a velvet box
A Texas Ranger
Sixty cents in my pocket
Well, it so happens he wasn't
There are books about it
A person of extreme proportions
She could play piano and sing
Citizens of the Third World
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