There is an old tradition
A game we all can play
It starts by getting liquored up and sharpening your blade
You take a shot of whiskey and grab your knife and pray
And spread apart your fingers
Then this is what you say
Oh, I have all my fingers
The knife goes chop, chop, chop
If I miss the spaces in between my fingers will come off
And if I hit my fingers the blood will soon come out
But all the same I play this game, 'cause that's what it's all about
No, you can't use a pencil
Can aren't use a pen
The only way is with a knife when danger is your friend
And some may call it stupid
Some may call it dumb
But all the same we play this game, because it's so damn fun
Oh, I have all my fingers
The knife goes chop, chop, chop
If I miss the spaces in between my fingers will come off
And if I hit my fingers the blood will soon come out
 But all the same I play this game, 'cause that's what it's all about
Oh, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop
I'm picking up the speed
 And if I hit my fingers, then my hand will start to bleed