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The tequilas, the vodkas, the whiskeys with lime
Just like the jukebox, they turn on a dime
Miranda was lovely; the boys were upset
The bartender said that they best not forget
The last ones who tried to take the girl home
Were found outside later ripped to the bone
"A myth" they all said; "A tale for the weak"
As Johnny Boy stood up and started to speak
In a thunderous voice overriding the din
"This girl is mine," and then it began

The scared ones looked for a safe place to hide
While others with priors began rushing outside
A Louisville Slugger came out from the rack
Two sawed-off shotguns were heard to retract
Five Smith and Wessons were pulled from five belts
Miranda stood pleased at the hand she'd been dealt
She knew the end now and she knew it was bad
But that's what you get with a bartender dad
Who lets his own daughter hang out at his place
Thank Benjamin Spock; may he lie in disgrace

Many were injured and some were hurt bad
Miranda was smiling and so was her dad
They thought it was funny seeing what could be done
With a short skirt and flirting with one strap undone
Johnny Boy looked like he'd just seen the light
He'd never felt like this right after a fight
He went to the jukebox; played G twenty-nine
An old song by Boston; he knew every line
His boys held the dad down as he grabbed the chick
"I'm gonna Mirandize you; you make me sick

"I'm gonna take you by the hand and slam you in the fan, Miranda
"I'm gonna grab you by the hair and throw you down the stairs, Miranda
"I'm gonna whip you for your lies and then you'll realize, Miranda
"It's more than a feeling, when I hear that old song . . . Miranda"