The Ram Man

The ram man, was a bong bum
He'd sit all day with Tom thumb
Next to him, he got stuff done,
Dragging his self around like a monkey in the sun.

No money, no work, his ambition went beserk.
It ran off with another and left him on earth,
T'was all strange to him, being rather dim,
His chances were slim, but no worse than any other.

At least he does the pots, to keep his hands nice and soft;
True, he can cause a mess, when he gets the floor wet.
The bucket he dropped, the weed went to the mop,
Then he burned himself peeling back some crop,

Though no ordinary leaves, this time he peeled,
A fiery seed, which made him beleive,
That fire can be buried in a garden.

The fire that carries his burden.