On top of spaghetti,
All covered with cheese,
I lost my poor meatwad,
When somebody sneezed.
It rolled off the table,
And on to the floor,
And then my poor meatwad,
Rolled out of the door.
It rolled in the garden,
And under a bush,
And then my poor meatwad,
Was nothing but mush.
The mush was as tasty
As tasty could be,
And then the next summer,
It grew into a tree.
The tree was all covered,
All covered with moss,
And on it grew meatwads,
And tomato sauce.
If you eat spaghetti,
All covered with cheese,
Hold on to your meatwad,
Whenever you sneeze.
