Old MacDonald has a farm and a love of poetry
And every night in the pale moonlight
He writes new verse in his own sweet words
And reads them out to me
I love you like my favorite hen who lays the biggest eggs
To hear her squeak and hear her squawk
Reminds me of the way you talk
And you both have spindly legs
I love you like my old sheep dog, the one that smells like cheese
He's past his best and mostly deaf
And has the worst **** awful breath
But he's always keen to please
I love you like the milking cows that waddle thru the town
Their bellies scrape along the floor
They barely fit through the old barn door
And their udders dangle down
I love you like the ***** sack that's hanging in the sty
Its wrinkled up just like your skin
Its great to stuff my potatoes in
And its always warm and dry
Old MacDonald has a farm and a love of poetry
And every night in the pale moonlight
He writes new verse in his own sweet words
And reads them out to me
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
Old MacDonald has a farm and a love of poetry
And every night in the pale moonlight
He writes new verse in his own sweet words
And reads them out to me
I love you like my favorite hen who lays the biggest eggs
To hear her squeak and hear her squawk
Reminds me of the way you talk
And you both have spindly legs
I love you like my old sheep dog, the one that smells like cheese
He's past his best and mostly deaf
And has the worst **** awful breath
But he's always keen to please
I love you like the milking cows that waddle thru the town
Their bellies scrape along the floor
They barely fit through the old barn door
And their udders dangle down
I love you like the ***** sack that's hanging in the sty
Its wrinkled up just like your skin
Its great to stuff my potatoes in
And its always warm and dry
Old MacDonald has a farm and a love of poetry
And every night in the pale moonlight
He writes new verse in his own sweet words
And reads them out to me
