In a faraway land, without too much wealth,
Where the tall mountains howl and the thieves use no stealth,
Where the rivers all mourn and the fish lack strong health,
There was once a young prince of the landfill.
He desperately wished for a life without toil,
He wanted a life without mold in the soil,
He wanted a way to escape all the spoil,
He wanted to leave from this foul swill.
But, sadly for him, there was no way to win,
For he had to remain there on duty;
There was only he (besides, of course, me)
The guard dog was this junkyard's beauty.