The pro is here, to lead the way
To save the day Wicked little critta!
He clips the puck from Bobby Orr
He shoots, he scores Wicked little critta!
As he proceeds to torch the place
As he proceeds to scorch the place
As he proceeds to torch the place
Scorcher, torture, scorcher Wicked little critta!
He's a wicked little critta with a sissy bar
And he lays a patch on the tar
He's a wicked little critta with a sissy bar
And he lays a patch on the tar
And he pops a wheelie on his mini-bike
And he burns rubber and he peels out
He's a wicked little critta with a sissy bar
And he lays a patch on the tar
And he clips the ball from Havlicek
And Havlicek is used and abused
He's a wicked little critta with a sissy bar
And he lays a patch on the tar
He decides to ditch and he ditches and he ditches
And nobody knows where he ditched
He's a wicked little critta with a sissy bar
And he lays a patch on the tar
It's a wicked little guy
Wicked pissa little guy
Wicked scorcher little critta
He's a wicked little guy
Wicked little critta!
He's a dink
Way to go
I like him
I got problems
Quoth the Johns:
Incorporating half the vocabulary of our childhoods in the suburbs of Boston, this lyric may jar the memories of many New Englanders. Remixed by the Elegant Too, the track celebrates the enchanting "old school" sound of the mid-1980's inner city even as it invokes the "older school" of Eastern Massachusettes in the early 1970s. If you get the feeling you've heard this song before then this song is dedicated to you.
—John Linnell and John Flansburgh
[source: Emusic promotional email, August 3, 2001]