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What is that stuff all over our yard So thick that no grass can be seen? The leaves, my friend, are blowing in the wind Dead brown leaves are covering the green. How many loads must I lug to the woods To dump on the wide forest floor? This raking, my friend, it never seems to end There always will be one load more. How many squirrels dig up our yard To bury this year's acorn crop? Their number, my friend, is more than I can count Oh God, how I wish they would stop! |
Author and Curator: Dr. David P. Stern
Mail to Dr.Stern: david("at" symbol)phy6.org .
Last updated 15 November 2004