Now that I've used up all my ideas
  Here in my little house by the sea
  I search for a usable memory but none comes to me
    In grade one, my teacher could do embalming
  She'd stuff the bodies of dead little birds
  She told us if ever we found one, just to bring it to her
    And in the science room was an iguana
  It lay very still in its cage
  And we'd feed him living flies
    Then she'd read the old testament to us
  But first she'd remind us the stories were true
  And we'd hear of locusts and plagues and the tortures they knew
    And in the science room was an iguana
  I remember it now in my house by the seaside
  Swatting flies