I am a furry old donkey
With ill-fitting ears, it appears;
They tell me I bray in the wrong key
And move little children to tears.
I'm having my buck teeth adjusted
And new-fangled mush in my pail;
To prove that I'm cutting the mustard
They'll soon be replacing my tail.
I hope that the new one's not tickly,
That the hair has a critical mass;
I hope that they pin it on quickly
Or I'll look like a silly old ass.
Jacob was smoother than Esau.
He knew the right way to behave.
My heehaw squeaks like a new seesaw,
And I've one polished hoof in the grave.
