True Thomas sat on Huntley bank. And he beheld a lady gay. A lady that was brisk and bold. Come riding o'er the ferny brae. . Her skirt was of the grass green silk,.
Space man blow up. . Oh, maggot, he's a modern day fagan. Turfin' out your pockets like a Christian burns a pagan. Drippin' with charm, style and panache.