I'm looking at the salads, Nat
While I'm standing at my till
Thinking how, when I feel ill,
I always want a salad.
I fell off my horse last week.
I lay on my face till the shock went
And I knew no bones were brokne or bent,
What was it like for you?
Did you lie in the dirt of the road, Nat?
Did you know you'd broken every bone?
Did you feel so horribly alone?
I hope you didn't, Nat.
I hope you didn't.
