Samples grow not from this tree that bud there is my peach
Though her flank is nice and new so full and smooth few find
This daughter mine, pink centered sits, she wont concede too you
Do you try bare backed out yonder, there with morning sun
Out of sight, I sit out here with flighty sparrows tree it's shade
I understand how you must think, my gun still works just fine
Your mother knows your habits and the stains you try to hide
Preacher man your daddy taught her well, too just like mine
She climbs yon tree, from what I see and sweet she turns your eye
So mosey back from whence you came, rock salt is all you'll get
s.p.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem