I wandered about in the Windiewiddle,
with a duck, and a mouse, and a moose with a fiddle.
We paused for a while to piddle in a puddle,
as we mused, confused,
in the middle of a muddle.
"I think", said the mouse,
"We've gone astray!
We're all quite lost is what I'd say!".
"Oh my!", said the duck, "That's such bad luck,
but isn't it a lovely day!"
The moose, if he heard,
never ever said a word,
as he took up his fiddle to play.
Then poor ol me, confused ol me,
could say not yea or nay.
So if you wander about in the Windiewiddle,
with a duck, and a mouse,
and a moose with a fiddle;
don't piddle in a puddle,
too long in a muddle,
or you just might lose your way!

We were poor when I was young;
I had a washtub for a crib;
lug nut for a teething ring,
corn shuck for a bib.
But my crib did have a mobile;
on loan from dear ol Dad;
a worn and torn old photograph,
of a pork chop he once had.
He'd borrow it most every night,
when time to feed the family group;
and dip it in hot water,
so we all could have some soup.

Comes the morning, thrush will call,
from brambled hedge, or garden wall.
Sing he must, and sing he will,
though even to a silent hill.
And be there but echoes all along;
he will forget the day, but not his song.