A Scratching Song

Withers, neck, and then the nose,
The ears and poll, but not the toes,
They bleat and purr, they like it so,
So scratching, scratching, on I go.

It's cold outside, with frigid weather,
They're cozy warm, and soft as leather,
It's snowing hard, but so whatever,
I'd keep scratching them, on forever.

I've been too long, my mother will chide,
The goats look after me, longing eyed,
They beg me to stay, put my mother aside,
But I should leave now, and go inside,

As I go, to them I cry: I will comply!
I shall again scratch and sing, to satisfy,
Take comfort dears, you mustn't sigh,
You'll have more, I'll come back nigh!

I'll sing: Withers, neck, and then the nose,
The ears and poll, but not the toes,
They bleat and purr, they like it so,
So scratching, scratching, on I go.