Yard

In our yard how many chickens can we count

On our fingers and toes on their toes

Sitting on father's hole sitting on his chest

Crushing rocks of dirt the earth is soft in our

Yard, yard, yard

Stones in my shoes and feet

Are dragging them through museums

Where under glass, refrigerate

Freeze, hands and feet and knobbly knees

Yard, yard, yard, yard