There was an old farmer who sat on a rock,
Watching the little boy play with his
  Marbles and cronies in the springtime of yore,
When his little companion was a great big fat
  Decent young lady, who sat on the grass
And when she rolled over, showed the shape of her
  Shoes and her stockings, which fitted her like a duck
She said she was learning a new way to
  Bring up her children and teach them to knit
While the boy in the pasture was taking a
  Pretty little girlie down to the crick
Where he said he would show her the length of his
  Rowbot, which was anchored down by the falls,
On the way down he slipped and he injured his
  Finger and he cursed like a Jew.
He wished he had a gun with which he could hunt
And started out on the trail of a
  Rabbit, which bounded away over the sod,
You may think this is bull-shit, but it isn't, by God.