There once was this man a dried up old prune
Who’d sit there at night staring up at the moon
Out there each evening in his big rocking chair.
As the wind blew through his thinning white hair
He would think about life and play his guitar
And drink bootleg whiskey from an old jelly jar
And sometimes the old man wished he was dead.
For he was so lonely because he never wed
He’d once loved this girl who hair was bright red
Till one day he found her in another mans bed
Then one July morning these folks happened by
It was this old lady, and some poor dumb guy
He recognized her as the girl with  red hair.
And the years that had passed to her were not fair
She was real fat and ugly and looked really mean
And her once white teeth had turned a dull green
She belittled her husband and called him a fool
Who looked beaten down from all her  ridicule
And at this sad sight the old man rehydrated
His wrinkled old face became plump and elated
He had dodged a bullet and escaped a cruel fate
And compared to her husband his life had been great
So from that day forward he no longer felt glum
The dried up old prune had become a ripe plum