In the middle of a scorching desert
There lives a pickled old man
A pickled heart and a pickled frankfurt
He reminds me of the old vinegar man
He has the same old frown and a sour face
You can smell his pungent stench a mile away
His bad habits has turned him into this disgrace
You will not pity but turn away in dismay
He just celebrated another birthday
Getting a day older didn’t help his pride
With his battered ego reasons will not weigh
He has no mercy he’ll get you hog-tied
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem