FZ: This is a song about vegetables. They keep you regular, they're real good for you

Call any vegetable
Call it by name
You gotta call one today
When you get off the train
Call any vegetable
And the chances are good
Yeah-eh-hey, the vegetable will respond to you
Oo oo, la-la-ah la-la, the vegetables will respond to you
Oo oo, la-la-ah la-la, oh!

Call any vegetable
Pick up your phone
Think of a vegetable
Lonely at home
Call any vegetable
And the chances are good
Yeah-eh-hey, the vegetable will respond to you
Oo oo, la-la-ah la-la, the vegetables will respond to you
Shoo-shoo, la-la-ah la-la . .

Ruta-bay-ay-ayga, ruta-bay-ay-ayga
Ruta-bay-ay-ayga, ruta-bay-ay-ayga
Ruta-bayyyyy . .
Rutabaga!

No one will know
If you don't want to let 'em know
No one will know
'Less it's you that might tell 'em so

Call and they'll come to you
Smiling and covered with dew
Hey! Hey! Vegetables dream
Vegetables dream
Vegetables dream
Of responding to you

Standing there shiny and proud by your side
Holding your joint while the neighbors decide
Why is a vegetable something to hide?
To hide!
To hide!
To hide!

Shoo-shoo Shoo-shoo . .

FZ: You know, a lot of people don't bother about their friends in the vegetable kingdom. They think that perhaps the only thing that's really necessary is a bit of fondue and an old Saint Bernard. But even in Switzerland I'm sure that you realise there's more to life than merely that. Not much, but a little bit maybe. Maybe some ice skates. Let's add some ice skates to it. Sometimes you'll think once you've got your hands on your ice skates, "Where can I go with my hands on my ice skates?"
Howard: Where can I go to drink Slivovitz in the Alps?
Mark: At Bill R's big lodge up the hill where you can go right up the hill today and skate with Bill and Ron
Howard: Where can I go to have equipment problems in Montreux?
Mark: Right here. You don't have to go nowhere
Howard: Where can I go to get a shirt just like Jim's wearing
Mark: At the Marc Bolan Beau-tique
Howard: Where can I go to get into a cloth that looks like 1965, hey-hey-hey
Mark: Los Angeles, California
FZ: Questions, questions, questions, flooding into the mind of the concerned rock and roll performer today. Ah, but it's a wonderful time to be alive even in the middle of fondue country. And we have some culinary suggestions for you now. New things that you can stick on the end of your very own fork and dip into your very own hot fat. The creative approach to Swiss cooking. And here are your suggestions:
Muffin fondue
(Penis!)
Pumpkin fondue
(Penis!)
Wax paper fondue
(Penis!)
Caledonias, Mahogany, Elbows
(Yeah!)
Green things in general
(I got a pe-e-enis)
And soon, a new rapport
(Yeah! You got a pe-e-enis)
You and your new little green and yellow buddies, grooving together, maintaining your coolness together
(Yeah! You got a pe-e-enis)
Worshipping together in the church of your choice, only on the top of the mountain
(Yeah! I got a pe-e-enis)

God bless America
Land that I . .

Call any vegetable
Call it by name
You got to call one today
When you get off the train

Call any vegetable
And the chances are good
Yes indeed, the vegetables will RESPOND to you!
Howard: We had an interesting adventure just the other day. Yesterday as a matter of fact. We all got into this coach and they told us that Kinny was gonna buy us a dinner. Yes, and they did buy us a dinner. And the coach went up into the alps. And it kept going up into the alps until it could go no farther and then we got out of the truck. And with our coats huddled around us and our breath forming into little minute beadlets of insensual sweat we hiked through the snow past the little ducks in their bob-sleds, past the little turkey tire tracks, up into the mountains. (Tun-tun-tun) Tun-tun-tun. Whereupon we came to this little shack where they fed us some cheese and shit that was okay. But as we were leaving—Oh yeah you and your cheese—. As we were leaving I couldn't help but notice two galoshes sticking up out of the snow. I said, "My God, it has been a long time since anyone's eaten here and lived." And I dug, and I dug and there I found this old weathered beaten man, who must have been—oh, what could he have been, 60? 70?—blue in the face, wrinkled, shriveled, had been lying under the snow for maybe oh ten or twelve odd years, and I picked him up, and as I was giving him artificial respiration he pushed me away—as many are won't to do under the same circumstances—and muttered the following words to me about his time under the snow. Dig it . .