There was a man named Dunderbeck who invented a machine.
It ground out perfect sausages, and it was run by steam,
The pussy cats and long-tailed rats, no more they will be seen,
They’re all ground up for sausage meat in Dunderbeck’s machine.
Oh, Mr. Dunderbeck, how could ye be so mean,
To ever have invented that sausage meat machine?
The pussy cats and long-tailed rats, no more they will be seen,
They’re all ground up for sausage meat in Dunderbeck’s machine.
Now, one fine day, a little boy came walking in the store.
There was a pile of sausages lying on the floor.
While he was a-waiting, he whistled up a tune,
And all them little sausages went dancing around the room.
One night, the thing got busted, the darn thing would not go.
So, Dunderbeck, he crawled inside to find what made it so.
His wife she had a nightmare, she was a-walking in her sleep.
She gave the crank one big yank, and Dunderbeck was meat!
Oh, Mr. Dunderbeck, how could ye be so mean?
Aren’t you awful sorry now you invented that machine?
The pussy cats and long-tailed rats, no more they will be seen,
They’re all ground up for sausage meat in Dunderbeck’s machine.
