Barn yard on my father’s farm:
The car alarm! I’m seein’ stars.
Bob’s at the bar with Carl and Marge.
It’s not far, but parking’s hard.
And, Oh, God, what’s that large mark
on your forearm. Fooling with the dog,
now that wasn’t too smart.
Your head was always hard.
Too many movin’ parts. We’re dodgin’ rocks,
but you got a big heart, big as Scot’s.
His snow-thrower’s big as an ox.
Now relax, and let me charge the box.