1-2-8 by The Mighty Mighty Bosstones

They made something, they played something
Brand new a baby blue machine
Brass tacks, duct tape, for the great escape
Packed in there like sardines
Back and forth
East, south, west, north
Shred the atlas burn the map
Often lost and paths criss crossed
Wake me up I need a nap

One, two, what's in the stew?
Three, four, no one's really sure
Five, six, what's in the mix?
Seven, eight, this stuff tastes

They did something which meant something
And that got them some attention
Eyes wide, a roller coaster ride
Great pride in this invention
I think they're selling snake oil
At the dog and pony show
And in the garden gee, would you pardon me?
And by the way how does it grow

One, two, what's in the stew?
Three, four, no one's really sure
Five, six, what's in the mix?
Seven, eight, this stuff tastes

The explanation's unexplainable
Holding onto something, once dreamt unattainable
The course was never charted so don't look into the books
The secret's not the recipe, it's got to be the cooks
They made something, they played something
Blood, sweat and elbow grease
Well, if you can't stand the heat in the kitchen
Get out it will increase

Last train to where, get out of here
Nothing's measured and nothing's weighed
A dash of honesty in the recipe
That's the first mistake you've made

One, two, what's in the stew?
Three, four, no one's really sure
Five, six, what's in the mix?
Seven, eight, hey this stuff tastes
One, two, what's in the stew?
Three, four, no one's really sure
Five, six, what's in the mix?
Seven, eight, this stuff tastes

© BOSSTONES MUSIC

© EMI APRIL MUSIC INC.

Lyrics provided by Gracenote