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.