But he only loved one single thing—And that was just a peanut-butter sandwich.His scepter and his royal gowns,His regal throne and golden crownsWere brown and sticky from the moundsAnd drippings from each peanut-butter sandwich.His subjects all were silly foolsFor he had passed a royal ruleThat all that they could learn in schoolWas how to make…
The little boy whispered, ‘I wet my pants.’‘I do that too,’ laughed the little old man.Said the little boy, ‘I often cry.’The old man nodded, ‘So do I.’‘But worst of all,’ said the boy, ‘it seemsGrown-ups don’t pay attention to me.’And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.‘I know what you mean,’ said…
One crying and spying young sister for sale!I’m really not kidding,So who’ll start the bidding?Do I hear the dollar?A nickel?A penny?Oh, isn’t there, isn’t there, isn’t there anyOne kid that will buy this old sister for sale,This crying and spying young sister for sale?
Someone put their baby brotherUnder this basket- –The question is exactly why,But I’m not going to ask it.But someone, I ain’t sayin’ who,Has got a guilty face,Ashamed for lettin’ such a lovely brotherGo to waste.
And on a string she walked with a thing called the Floobie Doobie DooOh the Floobie Doobie Doo now what is that it ain’t no dog and it ain’t no catIt’s not the doll with eyes of blueI never seen such a thing as thing called the Floobie Doobie DooIt had one tooth five purple…
Thursday I’ll be the guy who parks your carOn a Friday I might be teachin’ school a Saturday finds me hustlin’ poolI got a whole lotta talents in demand that’s why they call me Handy ManPow-pow-pow-hum all the neighborhood girls and boysPow-pow-pow-pow they come to me to mend their toysTa-ra-ra-ra their daddys call me to…
Today I guess it wasn’t‘Cause while playing with my cousinIt fell off and rolled awayAnd now its gone.And I can’t look for it‘Cause my eyes are in it,And I can’t call to it‘Cause my mouth is on it(Couldn’t hear me anyway‘Cause my ears are on it),Can’t even think about it‘Cause my brain is in it.So…
And it’s rather dark in here.So please excuse the handwritingWhich may not be too clear.But this afternoon by the lion’s cageI’m afraid I got too near.And I’m writing these linesFrom inside a lion,And it’s rather dark in here.
So I pawned my guitar and bought a ticket home and I’s headin’ for the Trailway busWhen I seen an old fountain pen laying in the gutter so I stopped and picked it upIt was worn-out bent and cast aside you know kinda sorta like myselfSo I sat down on the curb and wrote a…
A little too small – just a bitToo floppy.Couldn’t get used to it,Took it off.I tried on the dancer’s shoes,A little too loose.Not the kind you could usefor walkin’.Didn’t feel right in ’em,Kicked ’em off.I tried on the summer sun,Felt good.Nice and warm – knew it would.Tried the grass beneath bare feet,Felt neat.Finally, finally felt…
