Hail Brock


BOB:
There he is. The man of the hour.
The pinnacle of potency, perception and power
The man who stopped the hordes of freshly disinterred
C’mon Brock why don’t you stand up and say a few words?

BROCK:
Not now, man. I’m not in the mood.
Feeling kind of like I’d like to drink in solitude.

BOB:
Brock, you are as humble as you are bold
but the account of your bravery just has to be told.
So you can just sit back and leave it up to me
and I’ll make sure your legend finds it’s place in history.

One stormy night, in the town over next
A child arrived unlike all the rest
Even the thunder paused to show its respect
for this baby boy born with hair on his chest.

BAR GUY #2:
He nursed upon the teat of a drunken stegosaurus
To ensure he would grow to be simply enormous

BAR GUY #3:
He possess the strength of, like, eleven thors.

BAR GUY #2:
And once he fought a lion and fashioned pants out of its roar.

BOB:
So if we gotta hail something then we might as well hail Brock
He’s a death-defying zombie-slaying dervish of buckshot
The mightiest warrior we’re likely to see ever
So raise your glasses high and yell his name out or whatever.

EVERYONE:
Hail Brock!

BAR Girl #1:
Like David but with pants on.

BAR Girl #2:
You’ll never find a man more handsome.

BAR Girl #3:
How I’d love to get my hands on.

BOB:
Literature is rife with that reluctant hero type,
But if Brock had any hesitation he kept it well disguised.

BAR GUY #2:
He plugged away, 30 a day
Without even batting an eye.

BAR GUY #3:
He kept their scalps but after a while
The pile got miles high.

BOB:
He never ate a meal that he didn’t kill himself.
He never killed a meal that he didn’t wrestle first.

BAR GUY #2:
He’ll drink Komodo Dragon spit to quench his manly thirst

BAR GUY #3:
Farmer’s hide your daughters, tonight he’s serving Brockwurst!

EVERYONE:
Hail Brock!

BOB:
By far the manliest

BAR GUY #2:
A one-man sausage fest

BAR GUY #3:
Oh, With that Jungle on his chest!

EVERYONE:

BAR GIRLS:
When he walks into a room, like dominoes we ladies swoon,
If we don’t take precautions he may spur another baby boom.
That chiseled chin, those sculpted abs, that polished grin, that molded can,
That perfect hair, that gorgeous tan, he plays guitar, he’s the perfect man.

BOB:
He drank a bowl of fire.

BROCK:
It was a candle. I was a child.

BOB:
He fought a baby bear.

BROCK:
It was small but it was wild.

BOB:
He can recite any work of Chaucer from the start until it’s finished

BROCK:
“When that Aprilis, with his showers swoot, The drought of” -Oh forget it.

BOB:
He bench pressed half a dozen men, along with their canoe

BROCK:
Actually it was a yacht, no scratch that it was two.

BOB:
He didn’t even look for cover when that tornado came to town

BROCK:
That’s because I fought it and I made it turn around,

Now, If you’re going to tell my story then you better tell it right
The people deserve an accurate description of my might
I mean, gaze upon these biceps, they cannot tell a lie.
They’ve chopped down a thousand cherry trees and turned water into wine.
Every muscle oozes thick, with pure American pride.
A Bald Eagle is my house and the American Flag my bride!

It’s about time you hailed someone and that someone should be me
If I hadn’t saved the day just think where you’d all be.
Holes in your heads, or just plain dead, or perhaps a fate far darker.
Oh my god! I saved your lives! Now pay me back with lager!

EVERYONE:
Hail Brock!

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