In the heart of the woods
Where leaves twirl in flight,
Where age-old oaks
Loom like wizardly gods,
Hares mowed the grass
In a grove at midnight,
And they sang a strange song
With the following words:
We couldn’t care less,
We couldn’t care less,
Though owls and wolves
Make us real wuss.
We’ve got a job to do
At this hour of voodoo,
We’re mowing the grass,
A truly magic grass.
And the wizardly oaks
Whisper something in darkness.
By the stench-soaked bogs,
Shadows loom in the rain.
Hares mow their grass,
Feeling lost, feeling luckless,
And out of fright
Hasten their refrain:
We couldn’t care less,
We couldn’t care less,
Though owls and wolves
Make us real wuss.
We’ve got a job to do
At this hour of voodoo,
We’re mowing the grass,
A truly magic grass.
We couldn’t care less,
We couldn’t care less,
We firmly believe
In the saying of the past,
That bold’ll be the one
Who thrice this has done:
At the hour of voodoo
Mowed magic grass.
We couldn’t care less,
We couldn’t care less,
Bolder we’ll be
Than the lion, king of beast!
We’ll hold out once,
We won’t screw this chance,
And no evil thing
Will ruffle us in the least!