Excuse-making Moe always had an excuse

For why he couldn't do anything he didn't want to.

"I can't make my bed—there's a pain in my head."

"I can't sweep the floor—I have a foot sore."

"I can't do my assignment—my spine's out of alignment."

Excuse-making Moe—nothing ever his fault,

Never taking responsibility, ever at all.

"I only cursed because she did it first."

"I'm not sure how that got bent—it was an accident."

"I didn't know."

"That's untrue."

"I didn't mean to."

"I didn't hear you."

Excuse-making Moe was in a car crash.

It wasn't his fault—he was scratching a rash.

An excuse-making doctor (whose name I forget),

Was the doctor Excuse-making Moe did get.

"I can't give him stitches—my right-hand itches."

"I can't stop the bleeding 'til I'm done eating."

"I can't set the bone—it's my time to go home."

So, Excuse-making Moe died.

Any blame, the doctor denied.

And on his way home, he sighed,

"Well, it wasn't my fault, I tried."