Confusion Among Viewers.
Annie Oakley, my darling, do you regret the handmade bullet
turned to sugar jet?
Shot, shot from guns, my fiery hearted pet?
About five, along these quiet avenues,
when the smell of frozen steaks and instant stews
causes the nose to twitch, do we get the news?
No, sweetheart.
Brassy trigger, happy kid.
We get you and the oat that flipped its lid.
Shot, shot from some hack writer's loaded quid.
[LAUGHTER]