If a found a pot of gold,
I wouldn't wait 'till I'm old.
I would use some of that money,
To buy a small bunny.
And when that bunny grows old,
I would melt some of that gold,
Into a cleaver.
And put the bunny on a leaver,
And swing the knife at its head,
And swing and hit until it's dead.
And when that bunny's soul is gone,
I will go hit a gong.
And that gong means that a life,
Has been ended by a knife.
And when I grow old,
I will be thankful I found that gold.