Down on the farm, boys The chickens must be fed By the very same person Who cuts off their heads If I were the chicken I would not take the food I'd know that the farmer Often is a dude
First time I saw you Was on that city street Your hair was golden On that city street I walked beside you On that city street But you cried and cried there On that city street
4 comments:
Down on the farm, boys
The chickens must be fed
By the very same person
Who cuts off their heads
If I were the chicken
I would not take the food
I'd know that the farmer
Often is a dude
Ah yes, thank you so much.
First time I saw you
Was on that city street
Your hair was golden
On that city street
I walked beside you
On that city street
But you cried and cried there
On that city street
Well, alright!
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