Comely Row
'I'm Popeye the sailorman'

Or whichever old tune he sang

Spiced up with a few hot damns

The sailorman

He made a comely row of trees

On each side of the country road

So that a daily sort of man

Driving beneath them in his lumber wagon

Might fancy himself lord of a private road

Right after the first few notes

All the goats turned their heads

They would get fed

He was a tall lanky guy

With stooped shoulders and a shy seemed studious face

'Popeye the Sailorman'