My wife and I life in a home
That is littered with smutz* and old dog bones.
She loves gin and I love rum.
The bottles pile up by the ton.

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Oh, oh, oh, it's scary,
It's littered with junk, is our aerie.*
Oh, oh, oh, it's scary,
Some say that it smells like a dairy.

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Now all the junk that's in the place
Would take up lots of landfill space.
There's bottles from our favorite beer,
Newspapers go back 20 years.

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Our neighbors have become our foes,
'Cause we line-dry out underclothes.
"This place does not smell like a rose,"
They tell me as they hold their nose.

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They say they can whiff curdled milk
And note that I do not wear silk.
The outhouse isn't far away;
I use it 40 times a day.

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When you approach, your nose says, "Farm!"
The methane causes you alarm.
Don't light a match; practice safety,
And come and have a drink with me.

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My nose is red from too much brew,
And like the roof, it does leak too.
My neighbor's gonna call the cops,
Because junk's piled over the top.

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