Please Mr. Fletcher (best sung at the top of your lungs to that 
old 70s favorite,"Please Mr., Please")

In the corner of the office stands a FDR box
With the best of flight recordings, old and new
You can hear the pilots scream for nary a quarter
And somebody else's Hopi chants when the screams are through

I got you some Viagra on this here counter
Your wife tells me that she'll help you ease the shame
Of some little problem she now believes that you have
I'm just sittin' here, ruining your name

(Chorus)
Please Mr. Fletcher, don't insult dear Scully
She hates it so, she's packing heat and she'll hurt 'you'
Please Mr. Fletcher, if you could only hear my plea
If she shoots, I'll be the one with the catheter

If I had the time to find a rhyme that worked here
I'd use it to further insult your black-suit wearin' ass
I'd be the cleverest poet this side of NYC
Maybe even of all your fellow M.I.B.'s

Well I guess I'd better get yourself together
'Cos when we switched, you left me far too much 'behind'
Just these boxers that are sorry and offer no support
I've got my Calvin's weighing heavy on my mind

(repeat Chorus)

Sis Beer
who never realized filks could be so much fun to attempt
and who apologizes for putting you through her latest try

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