Driving down a country lane
All nature is aflame
With that old tremendous urge
To play the mating game.
Bunnies scamper o'er the road,
As well as deer and bear.
With their minds on just one thing,
They miss my headlight's glare.
I catch them with my rolling tread
In several ton's embrace,
Leaving their romantic glands
As flat as Irish lace.
So to every lad and lass
Who plans a rendezvous,
Look both ways on Cupid's path
Or you'll wind up as goo.
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