The story was told by my old friend Bill
about a time when he was four
well maybe a little less, maybe a little more

Seems he’d been rubbin’ up against some boys in town
and learned some language that made his momma frown

His folks tried about everything from soap on down
but the lessons they were pouring in just wouldn’t stay down

Finally they said, now Billy my boy
the decision we’re makin’ gives us no joy

Because generally we like you , and you’re pretty good
with your chores
but there’s no room on this ranch for language like yours

So, though it’s sure to make us grieve
we’ve packed your bag, and you’ll have to leave

They peeked through the curtains as he walked down the lane
with Dad remindin’ Mom that some lessons have pain

Billy stood at the road for 20 minutes or more
then slowly trudged back and knocked on the door

They slipped from the window and opened it slow
he said
“where in the hell am I supposed to go?”