Hey diddle diddle
I seem to lack spittle
I thus cannot blow my horn
I tried this here fiddle
But it ain't beer and skittles
As my rotator cuff is torn
He kept to himself
Ne'er a curse, cuss, nor holler
'Till the day he decided
To wear a ruffed collar
There were seven to start
But seven's too many
She got carried away
Now she hasn't got any
When you got way too much
You go through 'em to fast
When you had it was Now
But Now it's all Past
One got lost in a crowd
One got caught in a breeze
One was trapped, one was drowned
One was bled out by fleas
The last two left together
They ran for their lives
To escape the cruel fate
Of the unfortunate five
