Farmer Billy Turnip-top
Corn thrashed unwanted weeds
Never did he stop
As he'd brought some seeds
In his scruffy jumper
And jeans with a hole
Shouting out for Thumper
Then whacked him with a pole
Poor Thumper rabbit
Turnip-top I will get
I have a nasty habit
Of things I forget
I'll remember this very day
Apparently a year ago
Turnip-top died I'm sad to say
From what I don't know
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem