Lawrence, Larry, Lorenzo Thatcher
Chaser of dreams and butterfly catcher
Farmer philosopher in overalls
Now upon his person
The big sleep befalls
Or not, for could he now romp
Through the valley of the dolls
By which every spirit will be enthralled
And if he’s climbing the garden wall
May he not slip and have a terrible fall
If you believe in reincarnation
Lorenzo’s back as something else
Not that he wasn’t something else before
A yeoman from the days of yore
They don’t make ‘em like Lorenzo anymore
Like the Indian Chief
Leaving nary a stone unturned
Lorenzo has earned a peaceful pass
His last lessons so recently learned
As he sat legs crossed upon the grass
So my friends, hoist high your grog
And dip your crust in oil of toil and trouble
To Lorenzo’s living alchemy
His dancing legacy
That lucky dog