JIM'S ROTTEN POTATOES

The taters Jim raised have all become rotten,
He stored them last fall and they were forgotten,
He stored them under his bunk,
Where they stink like a skunk,
He still ate them and now he's gone trottin'.

THE IDES OF MARCH COME ONCE AGAIN

The Ides of March come once again, 

My stored foods have gone bad, there's nothing for din,

My apples are soggy,

My canned foods are all foggy,

My taters sprout out of their bin.