A goblin from Berlin,
Wearing a hat made of coonskin,
Did enter my cave, he did come in,
His clothes made from deerskin,
And you already know, the kind of skin, is his hat.
He came from within,
To express his thoughts herein,
When he met himself a redskin,
And thought he lost that of his hair,
But it was his hat he had lost, his hair was still there.
As a president he would be a shoo-in,
But first he would have to be a write-in,
He has many talents,
Violin & mandolin being two,
But, oh woe is us, someone slipped him a,