Well, right a-bout that time, peo-ple, a fur-trap-per who was strict-ly from com-mer-cial... had the un-med-i-cat-ed au-dac-i-ty to jump up from be-hind my ig-ya-loo and he start-ed in-to whip-pin' on my fav-'rite ba-by seal with a lead-filled snow-shoe... I said: a, with a lead filled, a, lead-filled snow-shoe He said, "Peak-a-boo." with a lead filled, with a lead filled snow shoe. He said, "Peak-a-boo- oo." He went right up side the head of my fav-'rite ba-by seal, he went, "Whap!" with a lead-filled snow-shoe. An' he hit him on the nose 'n he hit him on the fin 'n he... An' that got me just a-bout as e-vil as an Es-ki-mo boy can be... so I bent down 'n I reached down 'n I scooped down an' I gath-ered up a gen-er-ous mit-ten full of the dead-ly... The dead-ly yel-low snow from right there where the hus-kies go. Where-up-on I pro-ceed-ed to take that mit-ten full of the dead-ly yel-low snow crys-tals and rub it all in-to his bead-y lit-tle eyes with a vig-or-ous cir-cu-lar mo-tion hith-er-to un-know to the peo-ple in this ar-e-a, but des-tined-to take the place of the mud shark in your my-thol-o-gy. Here it goes now... the cir-cu-lar mo-tion... Rub it! And then, in a fit of an-ger, I, I pounced and I pounced a-gain. Great Goo-gl-y Moo-gl-y! I jumped up 'n down the chest of the I in-jured the fur trap-per. Well, he was ver-y up-set, as you can un-der-satnd. And right-ly so, be-cause the dead-ly yel-low snow crys-tals had de-prived him of his sight. And he stood up and he looked a-round and he said: "I can't see. I can't see. Oh, woe is me. I can't see." No, no. I can't see. Wha? I. He took a dog- doo sno-cone an' stuffed it in my right eye. He took a dog- doo sno-cone an' stuffed it in my oth-er eye. An' the hus-kie wee-wee, I mean the dog-gie wee-wee has blind-ed me an' I can't see tem-po-rar-i-ly. Well, that fur trap-per stood there with his arms out-stretched a-cross the fro-zen white waste-land, try-ing to fig-ure out what he's gon-na do a-bout his de-flict-ed eyes. And it was at that pre-cise mo-ment that he re-mem-bered an an-cient Es-ki-mo leg-end where-in, it is writ-ten, on what-ev-er it is that they write it on up there, that if an-y-thing bad ev-er hap-pens to your eyes as a re-sult of some sort of con-flict with an-y-one named Na-nook, the on-ly way you can get it fixed up is to go trudg-in' a-cross the tun-dra... mile af-ter mile! Trudg-in' a-cross the tun-dra... right down to the par-ish of Saint Al-fon-zo. Strict-ly com-mer-shil. Peek-a-boo, woo, woo, woo. Lead, lead-filled snow-shoe. "Peek-a-boo." Lead, lead-filled snow-shoe. "Peek- a-boo." Yel-low snow. Here, Fi-do... Here, Fi-do! Ah, ah, ah ah. Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah. Uh, ha, ha, ha! Doh, doh, doh, doh, doh, doh, doh, yeah. Doh, doh, doh, doh, doh, doh, doh, yeah. Doh, doh, doh, doh, doh, doh, doh, yeah. Doh, doh, doh, doh, doh, doh, doh, well.