We fly through the night skies
Flashing our fat thighs,
Picking up dead guys;
You call this a job?
You take the blond guy,
I'll take the redhead!
Wait, he's not dead yet;
Let him go . . . splat!
Chorus:
Woo-oop! Woo-oop!
Woo-oop! Woo-oop!
Woo-oop! Woo-oop!
Woo-oop! Woo-oop!
Oh-h-h-h-h-h!
We're hunting the Wabbit!
We're hunting the Wabbit!
We're hunting the Wabbit!
We're hunting the Wabbit!
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