He was scratching his back, on the toenail I let grow,
There was a little devil, sitting on my knee
He whacked my knee with his hatchet, and boy did that hurt me,
And, on my belly sat the prettiest unicorn,
He stabbed my belly deep with his twisted, sharpened horn,
Then in my mouth there was the devil fermenting mash,
He said he'd make it up to me, when he bootlegged his whiskey for some cash.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment