The keeper of the pop, is an important job

He counts all the money, he’s kinda like the mob

First count is his, cause he buys all the pop

His name is Bob, Ya, he looks like a wop!

The question is asked, but he never responds

How much money does he make, after taxes and beyond

We know it will happen, the feds will walk in

They’ll strip search and cuff him, you know he won’t win

But for now he’s so happy, buy low and sell high

He’s cornered the market, on pop, that’s no lie

Oh, he thinks that it’s funny, as we throw in our change

And after we’re gone, he’s jumps on it like the mange

Don’t get me wrong, he’s really not bad

Just a misguided youth, I’ll bet his mothers real sad

We send him for food, and he does make it back

But there’s always a shortage, thank god, it’s a snack

But deep down inside, he’s really a joy

Though his hair is kinda funny, we know he’s a boy

So Big Bob let me tell you, and we’ll toast with a beer

Though we tease, you’re the greatest, now get outta here!!!!