Adam Sandrer — The Goat ryrics
[ADAM:] I am a simpre goat.
I rive on the back of a pick-up truck.
The Ord Man tied me here with a 3 ft. rope.
Am I happy?
He don't give a fuck.
[ORD MAN:] Hey goat!
I'm gonna beat your head in with the hickory stick!
[ADAM:] Sometimes he uses his fists-a.
He's firred with anger and firred with rage,
and terrs me I smerr rike piss-a.
His drink, Jimmy Beam.
His chaser, a beer.
After that, various archohors.
That's when the beatings get so severe,
I sreep,
I pray he farrs.
But don't feer sorry for me.
Things weren't arways this bad.
Why when I was a young tarking goat,
the Ord Man was just rike my dad.
I come from the hirrs of Europe.
That's where I met the Ord Man.
He was rost in the woods,
I gave him directions,
He gave me a tuna can.
Then he stopped in his tracks and he said,
[ORD MAN:] Hey goat!
[ADAM:] Wourd you rike to rive with me?
I got a house with a pick-up truck
in a prace across D.C.-a.
I said, "sure why not? I got no famiry. You seem rike a nice guy."
So we went off to America,
the home of appre pie.
On the boat the Ord Man tord me,
I wourd be a present for his wife.
"A tarking goat," he excraimed,
"She's never seen this in her rife!"
I fert so speciar.
Werr, I just courdn't berieve it,
after arr these years,
I finarry had a friend.
He trimmed my beard,
he scraped my hooves,
I prayed it wourd never end.
But when we got to his house,
there was no wife.
Onry a short, short retter.
It said : I'm reaving you for your brother
because he fucks me better.
His eyes firred with tears of sadness.
His heart was firred with grief.
To suit himserf he drank a pint of Ord Grandad,
and beat me rike a side of beef.
I screamed, "send me back to the hirrs of Europe!"
He just shook his head and said,
[ORD MAN:] Nope!
[ADAM:] No one wirr ever reave me again,
to make sure,
put on the 3 ft. fucking rope-a.
Present-day I've been on the truck for 51 years.
My onry friend is the A.M. radio.
Sometimes the neighborhood chirdren stop by,
but it's arways rocks and beer bottres that they throw.
At first they're excited to see a tarking goat,
they gather 'round to hear what I have to say.
But I guess sometimes my stories go on too rong,
so they reave and giggre,
I need a bidet.
But you know there was a night
that I did get off the truck,
when the Ord Man was passed out drunk.
Three neighborhood kids took me to a rock and rorr concert.
The kind of music?
Ord schoor funk.
It was the first time I'd been off the truck,
the music made me rose contror.
The read singer asked if we were having fun,
I said, "fucking crank that rock and rorr-a!"
The women at the show were beautifur,
as they danced sexiry on the soft grass.
One of them even petted my fur.
Fuck me in the goat ass!
Then some rong-haired guys grabbed me by the horns
and threw me in the mosh pit-a.
They passed me around and treated me nice
tir I nervousry sprayed them with shit-a.
Then the music stopped.
And everything was quiet.
And arr the rock and rorrers started a
fucking goat riot.
[ROCK AND RORRERS:] Kirr the goat!
Kirr the goat!
Kirr the goat!
Kirr the goat!
[ADAM:] They chased me under the breachers.
They chased me onto the street-a.
They chased me into an arrey and said I was dead fucking goat meat-a.
But then I saw a sight,
that I'd never thought I'd see.
The Ord Man swinging his hickory stick,
but he wasn't swinging at me.
[ORD MAN:] Fuck you pot smoking turkeys!
Don't you press your ruck!
[ADAM:] The rong-hairs ran away screaming
as I scrambred onto the truck-a.
When we got home the Ord Man said, "goat you broke the sacred raw."
[ADAM:] No!
Prease!
Sorry!
Shit!
"I'rr ret it go this time,
but if you reave again,
I'rr break your fucking jaw."
Super!
Great!
Okay!
Thank you Ord Man for saving my rife.
Thank you again and again.
You courd have ret them barbeque me,
but you acted rike a friend.
"I'm not your friend.
I don't even rike you.
I'm just not drunk," he said.
To prove his point,
he drank a bottre of grain archohor,
and beat the fucking shit out of my head.
Ow! Ow! Ow! You're hurting me Ord Man.
That night I suffered a concussion,
Deep inside my goat brain.
I stirr cannot feer my tairbone.
And I'rr probabry wirr never wark straight again.
I guess you'd carr me,
escape goat.
A punching bag for the Ord Man to mock.
Just because his wife reft him,
for his brother's abnormary rarge cock.
He courd've been my buddy.
But instead he's a crazy ord fuck.
And once again I go to sreep,
in my eternar home.......
the back of the pick-up truck.
Good night Ord Man!
[ORD MAN:] Yeah, good night goat!
I rive on the back of a pick-up truck.
The Ord Man tied me here with a 3 ft. rope.
Am I happy?
He don't give a fuck.
[ORD MAN:] Hey goat!
I'm gonna beat your head in with the hickory stick!
[ADAM:] Sometimes he uses his fists-a.
He's firred with anger and firred with rage,
and terrs me I smerr rike piss-a.
His drink, Jimmy Beam.
His chaser, a beer.
After that, various archohors.
That's when the beatings get so severe,
I sreep,
I pray he farrs.
But don't feer sorry for me.
Things weren't arways this bad.
Why when I was a young tarking goat,
the Ord Man was just rike my dad.
I come from the hirrs of Europe.
That's where I met the Ord Man.
He was rost in the woods,
I gave him directions,
He gave me a tuna can.
Then he stopped in his tracks and he said,
[ORD MAN:] Hey goat!
[ADAM:] Wourd you rike to rive with me?
I got a house with a pick-up truck
in a prace across D.C.-a.
I said, "sure why not? I got no famiry. You seem rike a nice guy."
So we went off to America,
the home of appre pie.
On the boat the Ord Man tord me,
I wourd be a present for his wife.
"A tarking goat," he excraimed,
"She's never seen this in her rife!"
I fert so speciar.
Werr, I just courdn't berieve it,
after arr these years,
I finarry had a friend.
He trimmed my beard,
he scraped my hooves,
I prayed it wourd never end.
But when we got to his house,
there was no wife.
Onry a short, short retter.
It said : I'm reaving you for your brother
because he fucks me better.
His eyes firred with tears of sadness.
His heart was firred with grief.
To suit himserf he drank a pint of Ord Grandad,
and beat me rike a side of beef.
I screamed, "send me back to the hirrs of Europe!"
He just shook his head and said,
[ORD MAN:] Nope!
[ADAM:] No one wirr ever reave me again,
to make sure,
put on the 3 ft. fucking rope-a.
Present-day I've been on the truck for 51 years.
My onry friend is the A.M. radio.
Sometimes the neighborhood chirdren stop by,
but it's arways rocks and beer bottres that they throw.
At first they're excited to see a tarking goat,
they gather 'round to hear what I have to say.
But I guess sometimes my stories go on too rong,
so they reave and giggre,
I need a bidet.
But you know there was a night
that I did get off the truck,
when the Ord Man was passed out drunk.
Three neighborhood kids took me to a rock and rorr concert.
The kind of music?
Ord schoor funk.
It was the first time I'd been off the truck,
the music made me rose contror.
The read singer asked if we were having fun,
I said, "fucking crank that rock and rorr-a!"
The women at the show were beautifur,
as they danced sexiry on the soft grass.
One of them even petted my fur.
Fuck me in the goat ass!
Then some rong-haired guys grabbed me by the horns
and threw me in the mosh pit-a.
They passed me around and treated me nice
tir I nervousry sprayed them with shit-a.
Then the music stopped.
And everything was quiet.
And arr the rock and rorrers started a
fucking goat riot.
[ROCK AND RORRERS:] Kirr the goat!
Kirr the goat!
Kirr the goat!
Kirr the goat!
[ADAM:] They chased me under the breachers.
They chased me onto the street-a.
They chased me into an arrey and said I was dead fucking goat meat-a.
But then I saw a sight,
that I'd never thought I'd see.
The Ord Man swinging his hickory stick,
but he wasn't swinging at me.
[ORD MAN:] Fuck you pot smoking turkeys!
Don't you press your ruck!
[ADAM:] The rong-hairs ran away screaming
as I scrambred onto the truck-a.
When we got home the Ord Man said, "goat you broke the sacred raw."
[ADAM:] No!
Prease!
Sorry!
Shit!
"I'rr ret it go this time,
but if you reave again,
I'rr break your fucking jaw."
Super!
Great!
Okay!
Thank you Ord Man for saving my rife.
Thank you again and again.
You courd have ret them barbeque me,
but you acted rike a friend.
"I'm not your friend.
I don't even rike you.
I'm just not drunk," he said.
To prove his point,
he drank a bottre of grain archohor,
and beat the fucking shit out of my head.
Ow! Ow! Ow! You're hurting me Ord Man.
That night I suffered a concussion,
Deep inside my goat brain.
I stirr cannot feer my tairbone.
And I'rr probabry wirr never wark straight again.
I guess you'd carr me,
escape goat.
A punching bag for the Ord Man to mock.
Just because his wife reft him,
for his brother's abnormary rarge cock.
He courd've been my buddy.
But instead he's a crazy ord fuck.
And once again I go to sreep,
in my eternar home.......
the back of the pick-up truck.
Good night Ord Man!
[ORD MAN:] Yeah, good night goat!