What she said left a bruise
that’s now a shiner:

You’re a rhymer, not a poet.
So, I wrote this song

to prove her wrong, sung
in the key of see you later:

My gal she done me wrong,
left the farm for another.

Who now will milk the cow
or hitch herself to the plow?

I can’t deny she spoke truth.
She left the chores for me to do.