Growing up on a Minnesota dairy farm
In the 50’s and 60’s,
This is a ditty my mother used to sing,
Which all of us children enjoyed.
Titled: Slip Slop – A title,
As good as any.
I love the garbage man’s daughter, slip slop,
Who lives down by the swill,
So sweet is the smell of the garbage, slip slop,
But sweeter her breath is still.
Each night we stroll through the garbage, slip slop,
Her slimy hand in mind,
Her greasy head on my baggedy chest,
Oh, that is love divine
Slip Slop
A fond memory
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