now you got me singing that song from the Flinstones episode...
Here we come on the run
with a burger on a bun
and a dab of cole slaw on the side...
Oh your tastes we will tickle
with a cold dill pickle
and all of our potatoes are french fried fried fried...
Classic, pure genius!
And don't forget the rest of it:
Our burgers can't be beat
'cause we gring our own meat,
grind, grind, grind, grind, grind...
When you drive away,
a tip upon our tray
we hope to find, find, find, find, find,
we hope to find, find, find, find, find...