There was an old farmer who lived on a rock,
he sat in the meadow, just shaking his
fist at the boys who were down by the crick,
their feet in the water, their hands on their
marbles and playthings and hand half-past four,
there came a young lady, she looked like a
pretty young creature she sat on the grass,
she pulled up her dress, and she showed them her
ruffles and laces and fluffy white duck,
she said she was learning a new way to
bring up her children, so they would not spit
while the boys in the barnyard were shoveling
refuse, and litter from yesterday's hunt
while the girl in the meadow was rubbing her
eye at the fellow, down by the dock
he looked like a man with a sizable
home in the country, with a big fence out front
if he asked her politely, she'd show him her
little pet dog, who was subject to fits
and maybe she'd let him grab hold of her
small, tender hands with a movement so quick
and then she'd bend over and suck on his
candy, so tasty made of butterscotch
and then he'd spread whip cream all over her
cookies that she had left out on her shelf
if you think this is dirty