An’ ’bout the natur of the place
Ten miles beyend the end of space.
An’ if his wife she’d ask the crank
If he wouldn’t kinder try to yank
Hisself outdoors an’ git some wood
To make her kitchen fire good,
So she c’d bake her beans an’ pies,
He’d say, “I’ve gotter flosserfize.”
An’ then he’d set an’ flosserfize
About the natur an’ the size