It ain't none of my business,
But you sure look good to me,
Tell me if you will,
Who your handler be?
Got lots of toxins,
One might be poisoning me,
Most people don't want me around,
So who may your handler be?
Right now, I'm in a terrible mess,
Bought my girlfriend's daughter a brand new dress,
Last night when everything was still,
She was peering through my window looking fit to kill.
Come on over here and sit down on my knee,
We know Miss Treatment's a cat in a tree,
Thinking 'bout pouncing down on you and me,
It ain't none of my business, but who may your manager be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting little ditty, Richard!