My wife, she died in the bathtub, she died of a terrible fit,
To fulfill her very last wishes, she was buried in six feet of...
chorus:
Sweet violets, sweeter than all the roses,
Covered all over from head to foot, covered all over with snow.
My wife puts a sack in the garden, I'm curious I will admit,
One morning I sneaked out a handful, I found it was nothing but...
There was a young fellow from Sparta, who could flatulate ballads and airs,
He could blow out a Mozart sonata, and accompany musical chairs;
One day he attempted an opera - it was hard, but he just wouldn't quit -
With his head held aloft, he suddenly coughed - he collapsed in a mountain of
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I know that these verses are scanty, the rhyme seems too much for my wit,
I start out like Shakespeare and Dante, but somehow I end up with...
And now that my story is ended, and I must make my exit,
If any of you feel offended, stick your head in a barrel of...
Sweet violets, sweeter than all the roses,
Covered all over from head to foot, covered all over with...
Sweet violets, sweeter than all the roses,
Covered all over from head to foot, covered all over with snow.
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