(William Hanna / Joseph Barbera)"Charlie" and "Irving" Lyrics, the two carhops Fred was trying to hide from his wife.
Here we come on the runWith a burger on a bunAnd a dab of coleslaw on the side,Oh your taste we will tickleWith a great dill pickleAnd all of our potatoes are french fried, fried, fried,Our burgers can't be beat,'Cause we grind our own meat,Grind, grind, grind, grind, grind,
When you drive away,You'll really hear us say,We bid you bye, bye, bye, bye, bye,We bid you bye, bye, bye, bye, bye!
And as your on your way,A tip upon our trayWe hope to find, find, find, find, findWe hope to find, find, find, find, find.
Ok, now you know I am a bit.....peculiar? He He He

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