st francis is so oh amazing,
and my life was so fulfilled.
king cole ate a pound of bacon;
a glass of milk was duly spilled.

drinking tea at noon time,
looking with a leer;
all these things are gone now,
but you are still here.

notecards went unnoticed,
hours passed them by,
fields were ate by locusts,
but all they did was lie.

skipping in the sunshine,
picking up dead branches
they were oh so fine,
with the midnight dances.