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My lawnmower stopped working,
So, I let the grass grow high.
My neighbors are complaining,
That it would soon touch the sky.
I always wanted a forest,
And the birds that it would bring.
The minstrels will follow,
The troubadours will sing.
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The lawnmower was the pushing kind.
Like the mower that my father had.
He liked the clinking of the blades,
Without the fumes and noise that was so bad.
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Never had I thought of ghosts before.
But now I am in belief.
My father appeared to mow the lawn,
And now, I can sigh in relief.
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Lyrics and music by Sanford Ross Bender
