That old hag sure is tired
Of keeping those chickens clean.
She rather go out and be hired
To drive a long black limousine.
The dirt of the farm
Keeps her scrubbing.
But it won’t cause any harm
If the farm player stops strumming
Life goes on away from cows
And the stars smile so pretty.
Life goes on away from sows
And the stars smile in the city.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment