Cars bellering sputtering chimneys
Stifling smothering people
Hastily baking away
James, I must retire to the country
Should I linger much longer
I shall surely expire
James, all I want are some horsies
A nice river with fishies
And a cold place to die
Saddle up, the blacksmith has fashioned blades
Skating thoroughbreds on frozen Mississippi
Shooting holes to catch the fishies hit and run
Viscous thoughts slosh slowly on through cluttered mind
Fishies figure eight and horsies bu*terfly
Butler scratches chin and sighs, wonders why