Who upon thine word be bidding
Oh who upon thine word be do
A laughing truffles gammets lot
Or wood behoove you the word that do
I am grumpy nothings wrong
everythings bad I hate that song
Go to talk to Sleepy hes okay
I stammered I went I saw littles at play
I saught out sleepy the very next day
Little would grow and little would say
Little by little I go each day
Then with Froth and marching moan
The door swung open and the old man groaned
In walked Little nothing too small
Not a jot nor a tittle
too long for the haul
Stepped out a man with whiskered teeth
Something for me tummy I reckon we'll feast
Till that storm out there passeth we be having our stay
Make me a brewsky, Yo, make it today!
So off with me shriken into the woods I go
Whilst over yonder I be checkin
for all dem tings that say Boo at night and glow
just to can me some wood chop wood wood chop a wood
then back to the Cantena I go
For some heat it'd be good for real be good
ahhh the pleasures of the burning wood.