Tumbling to rocky view
My jeans were growing tired
Before I yoke to yonder bloke
As if they two conspired

Above the knee, they split in three
And closer he did wave
It isn’t neat to panty-greet
At least without a shave

I picked along the legs I wronged
And jumped into a bush
I hoped he’d nary see to me
At least to hide my tush

But as he jogged a-closer
I could crumble in with fear
I knew I had to go, sir
Or to let him see me here