Hollow as an oak, in old Plumas county.
I'm rotten on the inside, oh but who can tell?

Rusty as a rivet in an old cabin stove pipe.
I'm not holding in much heat, but oh well.

Sorry as the man, who looks me in the mirror.
Who told you love was just a waste of time.

Worthless as a pen that runs dry of its ink.
Short an, "I'll love you everyday until I die."