(This house is your house... Jon are you the Cliff Friedman of funk?)
My Ogden house was made
to be under the shade
It houses maniacs
But it has artifacts
My Ogden house is old
It has its share of mold
Nearby lives Ron Pettway...
He'll make you overpay.
My Ogden house is where I live
It's an old house made of Cliff (sticks)
You know who lives there, old Jonnie Briks
Under a slanted roof
They have no electricity
The Ogdens like simplicity
They can't watch OJ's trial
Or purple dinosaurs smile.
The Ogden house is ten feet wide
They have to do things all outside
Jane Ogden knits some wool
For kids in elementary school.
My Ogden house is where I live
It's an old house made of sticks
You know who lives there, Jonathan Briks
Under a slanted roof
My neighbor's house burned down
It killed the whole damn town
Ron Pettway lost his home
And his greasy headphones
But this old house still stood
Just like I knew it could
It was all built by Sol
And it ain't never gonna fall.
My Ogden house is where I live
It's an old house made of sticks
You know who lives there, Edward D. Briks
Under a slanted roof, under a slide trombone.
And then God called down to the saviour...
Help me brother 'cause for I am your man.
I ain't funky.