There once was a Man with head like a bucket,
Every time he spoke it sounded like hens being shot with a musket!
His face looked like a cross between a stove and a rake.
And every time he was seen;
The children’s laugh would grow to a ruckus!
He’d scream back things so obscene,
That even insects fled the scene!
And he sounded a hen playing trumpet.
His tears would roll down his big bucket face,
Subdued; he would walk down the street,
With a simple trumpet of Fuckit’
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 5:33 AM UTC
There once was a Man with head like a bucket,
Every time he spoke it sounded like hens being shot with a musket!
His face looked like a cross between a stove and a rake.
And every time he was seen;
The children’s laugh would grow to a ruckus!
He’d scream back things so obscene,
That even insects fled the scene!
And he sounded a hen playing trumpet.
His tears would roll down his big bucket face,
Subdued; he would walk down the street,
With a simple trumpet of Fuckit’