Enjoy your turkey dinner
And we hope you get that deer
But the parts you don't consume
Ought not end up in here

We process all recyclables
You place within these huts
But we don't want your carcasses
And we can't stand your guts

Put recycling out early while the dew is still pearly,
If there's snow, rain, or sleet, make sure it's piled neat.

We'll not consume so very much,
We'll reuse plastic bags and such.
We'll wipe our butts with bark and leaves,
And blow our noses on our sleeves.

You talk about recycle
You talk about reuse
My new year's resolution
Is to buy less and reduce

Fighting soldier from our MRF
Bred to fight right from birth.
No great commando's quite the same
As what you'll find in our man Duane.

Co-mingle medals on his chest
Cardboard ammunition vest
Plastic bullets, paper planes
Our MRF soldier, our man Duane.

Camouflaged in his cowboy hat
Big buckled belt with his knife on that
100 jobs he's done today
And all, you'll see, done the right way.

Now there is something you should know
Duane is really our hero
This song is written all in fun
Cause in our book, he's number one.

Co-mingle medals on his chest
Cardboard ammunition vest
Plastic bullets, paper planes
Our MRF soldier, our man Duane.

Wouldn't you know that my funds were low
I needed to get some jingle.
So I took my wife, the love of my life
And parked next to the co-mingle.

'Twas an easier plan for gathering cans
than walking along the roads.
Though I say with a sigh, it's not very high
On the list of ethical codes.

Yet just as I thought they were all in one spot
For you see we had done this before.
When there were no cars I squeezed through the bars
'Cause there was a lock on the door.

With my wife on the ground just mulling around
Until it was the right condition.
How could we know that the eyes of Ol' Joe
Had noticed, and raised his suspicion.

So he circled around, parked on the school ground
And watched our thievery unfold.
Although I tried, he knew that I lied
'Bout losing my necklace of gold.

I soon had no doubt he would not let me out
"I've got ya," he said with a grin.
"I too had a plan, and I got my man."
Just then three cruisers pulled in.

Now caught in my crime, I've not made a dime
But will go down in history
That I'll feel like a jerk, doing 40 hours' work
At W.S.W.M.D.

There's a fly in my eye I said with a sigh,
A sickly old, sticky old, icky old fly.
It flew under my eyelid and now I can't see.
And though I am thankful it isn't a bee,
That buzzing around there I'd like to curtail,
Perhaps I can scrape it out with my thumbnail.

There's a thumb in my eye and I must confess,
I've certainly got myself in quite a mess.
When it first went in there I knew that it smarted,
And now it's more painful than when this all started.
Just give me some time though for I have no doubt,
That sooner or later I'll get them both out.

It seems to me somewhere or other I've read,
If I pull on my thumb while I bang on my head,
Repeatedly done, I would find by and by,
That my thumb would come out along with the fly.

So I pulled and I banged and sometimes hit my ears.
Them my head got so sore that my eyes filled with tears.
Those large swollen tear ducts I now have no doubt,
Are what forced out my thumb and then washed the fly out.

Now my vision is blurred and my hearing's impaired,
My head aches so bad that I sometimes get scared.
Yet I tell myself daily I've never felt finer,
So wave as I pass you in that big white Freightliner.