A mister came by to song a good sing
He didn’t have nickels for dimes
And tunes shed freely to come in and ring
For all the fun woody old times.

He fiddled a fiddle to pluck a red truck
And song out his words by a stile
Some boys run about in their own little luck
And saw mister forge a small smile.

Canary a fairy of small little ladies
Crowd about a shop selling oak hay
In their own Ethel minds of small little babies
On wooden red cradles they lay.

“But come one and all to the man playing south”
Said a poster girl out with a cry
“Say he’d come on and in with a gun to the mouth
And we’re all having orange pumpkin pie.”

I come to the pass with a glass in my hand
Saw the mister grin granny o’swong
And felt the glass fall to the crummy white sand
Heard the shards crawl a fangled new song.

“You caused me a pain to my heart with my name”
I tell mister out with a voice
But he played on regardless of no having claim
Of the music playing out of his choice.

Mister my sister you cause quite a blister
But I’m not giving up quite so soon
Cause I’m staying right here with my girl and I kissed her
On the forests sprouting up after noon.