>(refrain)

Bubba; the singing catfish, fit to be fried,
Your outrageous talk leaves us fit to be tied.
Bubba, oh Bubba, you’re still quite a dish,
Hangin’ out on the wall like a filet-o-fish.

(background guitar vamp)

Bubba’s been fishnapped, with no ransom that could rescue him from the clutches of La Petite, who couldn’t stand hearing “Bad to the Bone” any more and hid Bubba high up in a closet. Unfortunately, her brother grew, and grew, and became tall enough to search the highest shelves of his closet and find his old friend, Bubba!!

Repeat refrain.

(background guitar vamp)
Bubba’s been eaten, too. Chewed up by a sneaky rabbit who liked the taste of vinyl, soft rubbery material, and found this funny looking fish to be the perfect material for gnawing. Bubba’s tail is down to nothing, but its hard plastic base still tries to wave when he says, “Hey, drop me a line sometime!” The head? There’s not much left. Maybe he needs to join the scarecrow in singing “If I only had a brain!”
(guitar improvises a short lick from Wizard of Oz tune)

Repeat refrain.

(background guitar vamp)
Bubba, the survivor fish, has been thrown across the room in frustration. Darn thing goes off when we’re not ready for it; sometimes even the television blinking will set him off to announce “I’m bustin’ outta here tonight; you with me?” Bubba, the adults in the house would be happy to oblige. Garbage night, perhaps? You’re too big to flush down the toilet like a requiem for a pet goldfish.

Bubba, oh Bubba, ne’er to be fried
We’d go on without you; believe me, we’ve tried.
Bubba, oh Bubba, your history’s long
And storied, I’ll say, as I finish this song.