This pair loose he’d usually wear
With no chance for the brush to tear.
One sultry afternoon in the middle of June,
A couple of spinsters riding along soon
Discovered on one side of the road
This pair of pants where it was “throwed.”
As they drew up close to the spot
Their nag whirled around in a trot;
The pants were moving and jumping about
These maids their wits scaring half out.