Them Ther Roses are Dead. By Richard Maxfield 3-13-2000 Then ther roses are dead My truck is blue I was a wonten to say I love you You can cut bait Or gut a fish Your all that I wont More than I wished Your cheeks are red As ripe tomatterss Not nearly as mean As pissed off gater Your hair is so fine The color is yeller All mine friends say Im one lucky feller Your hind quarters purdyer Than my gray mules butt When you stand just right I cant hardly see your gut Y-Your skin is like Fresh churned milk Just a few dents The rest is like silk With most of your teeth I shore am proud Cause people always stair When we are in a crowd The way you smell I cant rightly say It is only stronger At the end of the day Your so smart Clean through the fourth grade With an sweet heart like you A fellers got it made I shore am glad That you are mine So very purdy Urine a find
Reason for writing:
I shore hope you licked it.
Birth sign: Gemini
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