Ernest Bly was a wonderful guy
or so his neighbors say
knock on wood, and they understood
just what he did all day
He sat and spat from the steps in the back
as the girls from school passed by
and he looked and he crooked hoped to hook
this girl that had caught his eye
She was tall and broad and used to call
nis name, "Hey, Ernest Bly!
Do you think you can wind and come to the rink
and watch me slip on the ice?"
And he laughed and he spat and he tipped back his hat
and he'd grin and he's say "That'd be nice."
And she'd wiggle a little and stepped over his spittle
and danced down the street with his eyes
Every day she die this with a smile and a twist
and he'd swear at her heals lifted high
and he'd wait for her with hands in a fist
for you see deep inside though he would die
if he could not get just one kiss
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