My father left me an acre of land Ivy, sing ivy Between salt water and salt sea sand And a bunch of green holly and ivy I plowed it all under with an old rams horn I sowed it all over with nettles and corn I scythed it well with the brim of my hat I carted it to mill with a team of great rats I stored it well in the wee pigs sty With all these riches, what'll I buy?