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Now that I've used up all my ideas Here in my little house by the sea I search for a usable memory but none comes to me In grade one, my teacher could do embalming She'd stuff the bodies of dead little birds She told us if ever we found one, just to bring it to her And in the science room was an iguana It lay very still in its cage And we'd feed him living flies Then she'd read the old testament to us But first she'd remind us the stories were true And we'd hear of locusts and plagues and the tortures they knew And in the science room was an iguana I remember it now in my house by the seaside Swatting flies From Letras Mania