His name is Buck and he drinks Bushmills.
He tends to breakfast up at Hill's.
Loves his dog, his kindness kills;
Should the Habs win, he'd be so thrilled!
Happy as Larry to help you out,
He’ll pretend he isn’t; gives abuse with a clout.
Wise and peculiar is our pal Buck;
But God forbid we say the word Fu…dge!
Feigning grumpness, our dear friend tries
To let you believe he’s not so wise…
Doesn’t give a fuck, at least for some things;
But a modest satisfaction is what that smile brings.