Hey Mr. Hamburgista (Hey Mr. Tambourine Man Parody)

A few days ago, when I was stuck inside because of the snowstorm, a friend’s brother made a Facebook comment suggesting I write a song about hamburger toppings and condiments, and also that the song should be a parody of Mr. Tambourine Man. Although it was one of the more unusual requests I’ve seen, I started and finished it the same day.

By finished, I mean I used the first three verses of the Bob Dylan version. It started dragging by the time I tried to write the fourth, so I decided three was enough, and since I’m doing these a capella, I can stop whenever I want to.

I recorded myself singing the song this afternoon, and here it is:

 

And here are the lyrics:

 

Hey Mr. Hamburgista, fill a bun for me
I’m not leaving ‘til you do the things I ask of you
Hey Mr. Hamburgista, fill a bun for me
And you best not be ignoring what I’ll task you to do

Hundred percent beef in my patty, I won’t take ninety-nine
Filler isn’t fine
If you dare give me pink slime then you’re pink slipping
The cheese should be American, the yellow kind, not white
From whole milk, nothing light
Also every single bite should have grease dripping

Hey Mr. Hamburgista, fill a bun for me
I’m not leaving ‘til you do the things I ask of you
Hey Mr. Hamburgista, fill a bun for me
And you best not be ignoring what I’ll task you to do

Lettuce, please, romaine, and put it between cheese and grain
Tomatoes, big and plain
Grab pickles, make it rain
But onions are my bane
So those should be more absent than my patience is
And bacon should be prominent, guess Applewood’s okay
But turkey-type, no way
If it’s soggy I won’t pay
I gotta have my bacon crisp

Hey Mr. Hamburgista, fill a bun for me
I’m not leaving ‘til you do the things I ask of you
Hey Mr. Hamburgista, fill a bun for me
And you best not be ignoring what I’ll task you to do

Give me mayo, little smidgen spread on
Lower half of the bun
As for ketchup, I want none
Don’t give me mustard or I’ll grunt
And after that noise there will be burger flying
And if you need repeating, you shoulda wrote it down
Need my hamburger like now
Or I might do much worse than frown
Sure you’re the only place in town
But that’s no excuse to not even be trying

Hey Mr. Hamburgista, fill a bun for me
I’m not leaving ‘til you do the things I ask of you
Hey Mr. Hamburgista, fill a bun for me
And you best not be ignoring what I’ll task you to do

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