Are we real?
Are we fake?
We're Gravediggers Biscuits,
For Christ's sake.

Could be 6:30,
or something dirty.
Whatever we are,
it isn't purdy.

We might be Jaded,
and some are related.
We trust our Gut Instinct,
since we’re mentally degraded.

The Mountain Oyster is our Cult,
Our music’s sure to  insult.
We came Frum the Hills,
So you know what to fault.

We bring death from above,
Stiff Nights, and Rough Love.
Got an Ironboss deficiency,
We wear impenetrable gloves.

We’re Gravediggers Biscuits,
And we mean business.
When we come to town,
Everyone digs us.