Rain again stains the main plain pane
and the sun is fun when you’ve won a ton
But to rut your gut with a slut and a mutt
your butt must be cut with a nut in your hut.
Its crackers for hackers you slackers
when for smackers and stackers you track
And wonder and blunder with hair all asunder
to fund her down under with someone who gunned her.
So pick up a stick and lick on a tick
for thick as its trick is its click on your wick
When the rain is a train with a mighty refrain
some drain must remain inside of your brain.
The son with a gun’s not the one on the run
for the sun on your bun is just for my fun.