A camp stove is a useful thing;
when I cook, I'm an outdoors king.
But my praise rises no higher
for grillin' on an open fire.
I fell into my own campfire.
I fell down, down, down, while the smoke rose higher.
And it burns, burns, burns . . .
My own campfire.
My own campfire.
Oh, yes, I fell into my own campfire.
I'm such a clown, clown, clown with my pants on fire.
And it burns, burns, burns . . .
That darn campfire.
That darn campfire.
The taste of meat is sweet
but not from my own feet.
I tripped up like a child.
Now I yelp and run wild.
I fell into my own campfire.
I fell down, down, down, and my screams rose higher.
And it burns, burns, burns . . .
I am no liar.
I am no liar.
Oh, yes, I fell into my own campfire.
Get me to town, town, town — it's the ER I desire.
And it burns, burns, burns . . .
That dang campfire.
That dang campfire.
And it burns, burns, burns . . .
My own campfire.
That darn campfire.
My pants on fire.
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