Gosh, dang, the world’s insane …
Kentucky horse pucky
is the cream of the plops!
There’s always more coming …
most certainly ne’er stops.
Once dried it is varnished
into ice hockey pucks.
When that puck whirls near you,
ev’ry wise person ducks …
where it crashes, it mucks.
Gosh, dang, the world’s insane …
Kentucky horse pucky
is the cream of the plops!
There’s always more coming …
most certainly ne’er stops.
Forged, merged, into golf clubs
that won’t maim when they fly.
The nine-iron lacks all scents
when it scatters, flies by—
goes vamoose on the sly.
Gosh, dang, the world’s insane …
Kentucky horse pucky
is the cream of the plops!
There’s always more coming …
most certainly ne’er stops.
Meshed into a baseball,
with those home runners, scores.
They may still break windows
but they’re pennies in stores.
When it’s hot, they’re like smores.
Gosh, dang, the world’s insane …
Kentucky horse pucky
is the cream of the plops!
There’s always more coming …
most certainly ne’er stops.
Now converted to gas,
pucky’s worth a million.
Ev’ryone raising horse …
‘specially big ones, of course ...
without recycle remorse.