My wife Phyllis had a purple pony, It ate and ate all day, It gave affections that were phony, When She gave a cooing bray, I did not like the purple pony, I did not like her at all, It ate well while we ate baloney, And, it kicked down our best stall, It cost so much to keep the purple pony beast, We had no money on which to live, We lived with famine while the monster had feast, There was no more that I could give, So, we mortgaged up the farm, And, spent every cent we could earn, Just to feed that awful pony, She ate like we had money to burn, Finally, I had had enough, And left my wife and her purple mare, I had lost my farm and all my stuff, And, that purple pony did not care.
John liked to turn plants in his yard into tea, Unfortunately, one plant was poison ivy, John's eyeballs swelled tight, His skin was all blight, His core temperature reached one hundred and three.
I had a feisty Pomeranian named Little Dog Lee, He would bite down on my pant cuffs and not let them be, But, when I offered him bacon, His real desire would awaken, After that he'd let my pant cuffs hang free.