Comin' Back For More Lyrics - Singles - C.w. Mccall

'Way up in the snow 

Where the scrub oaks grow 

And the coneys and the picas play 

Where the marmots abound 

All a-diggin' in the ground 

And the wind blows cold all day 

There's a little pile a' stones 

On a little pile a' bones 

That's a-what the archaeologists say 

But the folks in Lake City 

Well, they sing a different ditty 

It would like to make your hair turn gray 

Now, it's kind'a hard to find 

But it'll altercate your mind 

If you happen to go the right way 

You take Slumgullion Pass 

And don't stop for no gas 

Until you get yourself to Al's Caf 

It was the genuine, original 

Highly pathological 

Finger-lickin' digital caf 

It was Al Packer's Legendary 

Coronary Fast-food 

Cannibal Bar and Buffet 

Some dark night 

You gonna see a weird light 

Up on Cannibal Plateau, they say 

It's a scrub oak fire 

Like a funeral pyre 

Old Packer's been a-cookin' all day 

A-when the coyotes howl 

And the cougar's on the prowl 

They ain't lookin' for your customary prey 

Nah, they're waitin' for bones 

In a pile a' hot stones 

At old Al Packer's Caf 

[Chorus] 

Comin' back for more 

Comin' back for more 

Baby, comin' back for more 

Al's Cafe 

Comin' back for more 

Comin' back for more 

Baby, comin' back for more 

(Old Al Packer 

Was a real bone-cracker 

Got lost in a blizzard one day ) 

When the boys went to get 'im 

Old Al just et 'em 

And he buried all the bones in the clay 

Now you know them fellas 

Wasn't toasted marshmellas 

And they didn't fall asleep in the hay 

But it had been a hard winter 

So he had 'em all for dinner 

And they didn't find their boots until May 

Well, the folks in Lake City 

Showed very little pity 

So they sentenced him to hang next day 

But before they could noose 'im 

Old Al got loose an' 

He's a-lookin' for you, today 

Boohoohaha [Courtesy of Chip Davis.] 

[Chorus] 

Comin' back for more 

Comin' back for more 

Baby, comin' back for more 

Al's Cafe 

Comin' back for more 

Comin' back for more 

Baby, comin' back for more 

(Now 'way up in the snow 

Where the scrub oaks grow 

And the coneys and the picas play ) 

Where the marmots abound 

All a-diggin' in the ground 

And the wind blows cold all day 

There's a little pile a' stones 

On a little pile a' bones 

That's a-what the archaeologists say 

But the folks in Lake City 

Well, they sing a different ditty 

It would like to make your hair turn gray 

Now, it's kind'a hard to find 

But it'll altercate your mind 

If you happen to go the right way 

You take Slumgullion Pass 

And don't stop for no gas 

Until you get yourself to Al's Caf 

It was the genuine, original 

Highly pathological 

Finger-lickin' digital caf 

It was Al Packer's Legendary 

Culinary Fast-food 

Cannibal Bar and Buffet 

Some dark night 

You're gonna see a weird light 

Up on Cannibal Plateau, they say Boohoohaha [Chip again.] 

It's a scrub oak fire 

Like a funeral pyre 

Old Packer's been a-cookin' all day 

And when the coyotes howl 

And the cougar's on the prowl 

They ain't lookin' for your customary prey Aahoohoohoohoo [Yeah, it's Chip.] 

Nah, they're waitin' for bones 

In a pile a' hot stones 

At old Al Packer's Cafe Bleah! [Could it be... Davis?]