I should have mown better--there's a curlicue.
I'd circumnavigated some dog doo.
Must cut through, blade, blade, blade, must cut through.

Mow-ow, I should have realized it would be misty,
With blade on a crap-zappin' spree--
You can't flee, you'll catch fleas.
Now when I smell you, it's like lawn food, ew!
You say that I've got some doo due-ue-ue-ue-ue, so. . .
You snatch up a pile of canine-ine-ine-ine
And launch a bunch of haunch-spawned stew.

Sow-ow, I should have realized that I should have ducked more
And gone prostrate onto the grassy floor.
A good thrower, K-K-K, and you score.
Oh, no! I never realized I'd feel so shitty--
That you'd be throwin' crap onto me
Callously, cal* on me.

I smell just like you--we're a doo du-o.
I will spray myself to ablu-u-u-u-ute, or
I will be followed by cani-i-i-ines. . .
That's what comes from mowing lawn poo,
Mowing lawn poo,
Mowing lawn poo. . . .


*excrement. Nadsat argot (from "Clockwork Orange")