The Maiden of Kercheezer

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She was snoozing on her sweezer,

  Many a goofish year ago,

And a smile was on her beezer,

  As she gently scratched her toe.

She, the Maiden of Kercheezer,

  Hair as black as a harness tug,

As is fluttered in the breezer,

  O'er her lovely, girlish mug.

Evening dress of green and yeller,

  What a shoulder she could shake

And she had a nifty feller,

  Hight the knight of Duckandrake.

He was knock-kneed, she was cross-eyed,

  Oh, they were a lovely pair,

How he'd fondly knock her hoss-eyed,

  As she gently pulled out his hair.

And her folks didn't like his beezer,

  But what difference did that make?

And the maiden of Kercheezer, ever

  Eloped with noble Duckandrake.