Butcher the beagle liked to eat flies, High in protein; those crunchy meat pies, Once he chomped down on a bee, Which made Butcher see, When eating he should open his eyes.
Randy ate a pair of pickles before bed, on a dare, But, then he tossed all night with a nasty nightmare, From his belly Randy dreamt, There was an exit attempt, Out his bellybutton slipped the pickles with a pear.
My snow covered shack up on the hill,
Came crashing down upon my still,
It buried my corn, my sugar, my mash,
It even buried two cans of corned beef hash,
All I saved were some pickles; I think they're dill.