If...

If I could set fire to my bicycle,
A jolly old soul I would be:
I'd hang from my ears on an icicle
And give out my cough drops for free.

If I could blow smoke from my arsicle,
I'd charm the raccoons from their holes:
They'd find all my antics quite farcical
And beat me at chess and lawn bowls.

If only my phone was more phonely,
I'd call up my friends in Japan:
But all I can do is sit lonely
And android as hard as I can.

If britches had bitches in stitches,
And jumpers had bumpers and stuff,
I'd dig groovy gals some nice ditches
And kiss them 'til they'd had enough.