It’s “mutilated monkey meat, amputated doggy feet”, people! Please!
Some of the songs we sang when I was a child would get us expelled now.
Tra-la-la boom de ay
We have no school today
Our teacher passed away
We shot him yesterday.
We threw him in the bay
He scared the sharks away
Tra-la-la boom de ay
We have no school today.
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the burning of the school
We have tortured every teacher
We have broken every rule.
We even killed the principal But had didn’t care
Because he had no hair.
petcat already said it:
[QUOTE=petcat]
Great green gobs of greasy grimy gopher guts
Doubleposted what a putz, dopers all a little nuts,
hamsters working, each’n every day and night,
and I forgot my cite.
[/QUOTE]
Hah! Baker, you posted your songs already in this 3 time Zombie thread! 
The ending is
“and me without my spoon”
just for clarification as there seems to be some confusion on this.
As usual the rest of the lyrics have always been free flowing and some what changeable as a child’s game of telephone, but the only way one cold ever associate the song is again by the lyrics “and me without my spoon”. If someone else is stating otherwise they need to be detained in a mental heath facility for their own well being and that of the rest of society.
“…mutilated monkey meat, percolated stinky feet.” Canon.
The way I heard it (suburban Cleveland circa 1970):
She’ll be comin’ ‘round the mountain about 90
When the chain on her motorcycle slips
She’ll be drivin’ up the grass
With the muffler up her ass…
(if there was any more, I missed it, as copious laughter had ensued)
As for the ditty that inspired the thread, this was my friend Ken’s version:
School is made of
Greasy grimy gopher guts
Mutilated monkeys’ meat
Swimming around in a toilet seat
French-fried eyeballs
Swimmin’ around in a pool of blood,
And I ain’t got no spoon!
When I was a kid in the '70’s here in Nor Cal, we used a version of this song to describe kids we didn’t like.
For example, a group of us might get together on the playground to loudly voice our distain for the class bully by inserting his/her name into the song. Let’s call her “Sharon.”
Sharon’s made of green gushy gopher guts
Chopped up monkey meat
Marinated birdie feet
French fried eyeballs
Boiled in a pot of goo
All for you in Sharon stew!
We also had a version of the “Comet Song”
Comet, it makes your teeth turn green
Comet, it makes your eyes turn red
Comet, it makes you vomit
So get some Comet and vomit today!
And a version of the “Popeye” theme:
I’m Popeye the sailor man
I live in a garbage can
I pull down my pants
And I eat the ants
Yes I’m Popeye the sailor man!
This next fun song is sung to the tune of the Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction” and again, we’ll use the name of the bully as “Sharon”
Sharon gives you heart-a-heart burn
Sharon gives you heart-a-heart burn
Sharon, give you iiiiiiindigestion
Sharon, give you iiiiiiindigestion
Sharon makes you want Alka Seltzer
Sharon makes you want Pepto Bismol, too
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeeeeaaaahhhh!
Anyone else remember this one?..
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the lord
He is tearing down the alley in a 1950 Ford
With one hand on the wheel and the other on a bottle of
Pabst Blue Ribbon Beeeeeeeeeeer
(proceed to teacher striking me with a linear measuring device)
mmm
The version I learned in the Girl Scouts was:
Great big gobs of greasy grimy gopher guts
Mutilated monkey feet
Eensy weensy birdie feet
French fried eyeballs dipped in gasoline
And I forgot my spoon
But I brought a straw - SLLLLLUUUUURP!
Looking over theses 13 years (why was this resurrected, anyway?) of variations, none of them have the key line. Variations are fine, but the key line is the one that makes the whole point of the song, and is thus non-negotiable.
In this case, the whole point of the song was the well known “fact” that Jell-o is made of disgusting leftovers from animal processing. The next to the last line has to be “All mixed up in one big Jell-o”
Also, the variations of i didn’t have/i forgot my spoon? That’s the stinkin’ punchline. When you reach the punchline, you stop. You don’t add anything about straws. Or chopsticks.