The old gray mare had a burr under her saddle,

It caused her irritation and pain,

The farmer prepared ointment and fed her some mash,

But he let the burr remain.

The old gray mare had a bee in her bonnet,

The one that she wore out in the sun,

The farmer hoped a little whisky and water

Would keep her from looking so stunned.

The old gray mare became quite lethargic,

Refusing to engage in everyday play

The farmer brushed her and stroked her sweet muzzle

Not seeing the price he might pay.

The farmer meant well, he loved his sweet mare

But he wore the blinders, you see.

The mare finally succumbed to benevolent neglect,

The farmer was left with that burr-- and a bee.