Frogman leaves a trail of slime for children to slide on
Frogman doesn't care which side you're on
Frogman only cares if his belly is full
Of flies and spiders and of all things
Children.

Frogman rests his mind in a dark, dark place
On a lily pad with his ugly face
The children skip around and laugh and laugh
Because his eyes droop on the side of his head
But he knows they'll all be dead
They'll be sorry.

Frogman ribbets and croaks
Waiting for the children to sneak into his marsh
Of death, Frogman's tongue wraps around a child's waist
The others frightened, they beat his soft green head with nail bats
He croaks and exchanges goo-ey green pudding that burns
The skin of the cruel, curious brats who now resent
Frogman's foul release of farting out young toadlings.