L-A-T-R-I-N-E

L-A-T-R-I-N-E
That is where I long to be,
Rather than in fields of corn,
In bushes or in shrubbery.

L-A-T-R-I-N-E
That's the place for me to be,
I sit upon the broken seat,
And try to keep my blue jeans neat.

L-A-T-R-I-N-E
That is where they have T.P.
Rather than a dirty leaf,
What a way to find relief.