Happy Birthday Mr. Bugle

 From in the loft above the trees
There were a mount of garner bees
Or rather in the mount they 'bode
And talked and pranced and jived and rode

They thought their place a pleasant one
Amid the crescent sullen sun
It was far fair and had a fence
That passed from thither on to thence

And brought to them three times a day
Were lemonades in bright array
A pink one and a purple too
Which filled them up as ades oft do

Then in a happy chancy while
Would come a guester from the Nile
To talk to them of things afar
To give them jerky from his car

The jerk you see was of a cub
Born seven years near yonder stub
Or is it called a stump? Ah yes.
Well there he lived in no duress

And as we know of heres and nows
Good jerky comes from happy cows
Like milk or butter, cheese or salt
An hamburger or chocolate malt

So like I said about these trees
They were infested by the bees
Which loved to dip in ades their jerk
And play all day but always work

Cause as you know and they did too
You can't buy ades or jerks with goo
As goo's not cash and cash's not cheap
You can't get some by counting sheep

You'll sooner find some in a well
Or get some if those sheep you'd sell
But sheep are sold on every street
So change it up and sell some skeet

It's easy fashioned easy sold
Made of dirt and reaping gold
But don't go selling door to doors
And waste your time ...like I did yours.