You see rattan, you think furniture.
I see a basket hilt and silver duct tape.
We go to an event, you take everything you own,
just what I need, that's what I take.
I don't understand why we're loaded so heavy,
crushing the life from our shocks.
You'll find out one day,
mine's the better way.
Honey, I'm a Stick Jock.
You want your looms and your weaving,
well my armor's getting packed first.
Then my sword, my shield, my beer and my other stuff,
then we'll see if there's room for yours.
I don't understand why you're yelling at me,
telling me this is a crock.
Well, what can I say,
at the end of the day,
Honey, I'm a stick jock.
(chorus)
I'll salute you at the start, for you have my heart,
and baby, I'll never yield.
Then turn right around, knock some squire to the ground,
for he had the gaul to step onto my field.
I hear you talking to your friends,
"yeah, ladies, he's come a long way.
Wait till you see what he's wearing to court,
and, yes, girls, it includes a cape."
Then I show up wearing what I wore on the field,
sweat stained and stiff as a rock.
You didn't get your way,
well what can I say,
Honey, I'm a stick jock.
(chorus)
These days there's dudes wearing doublets,
footed tights and big floppy hats.
What ever happened to men dressing like men,
can you tell me what put a stop to that?
I don't understand what these "girly men" are proud of,
running around dressed like a fop.
I'd rather display my arms,
then those feminine charms.
Honey, I'm a Stick Jock.
My garb don't look like it's on fire,
I don't fight with a wire.
Thank God, I'm a Stick Jock.
Stumble!