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lyrics written by Mark Davies
Cars bellering sputtering chimneys stifling smothering people hastily baking away.
James, I must retire to the country; should I linger much longer, I shall surely expire.
James, all I want are some horsies, a nice river with fishies, and a cold place to die.
Saddle up, the blacksmith has fashioned blades. Skating thoroughbreds on frozen Mississippi. Shooting holes to catch the fishies hit and run.
Viscous thoughts slosh slowly on through cluttered mind. Fishies figure eight and horsies butterfly. Butler scratches chin and sighs, wonders why.