| There once was a farmer from old Flotsam town
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| Who was tired of sowing his seeds on the ground
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| He went for a wander and walked till the dawn
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| Till a wanton old she troll he stumbled upon
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| And a hey-ho he’s ploughing a troll!
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| The gods only know how the key fits the hole
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| Around in the stinking great den they did roll
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| And a hey-ho he’s ploughing a troll!
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| The farmer he knew it was love at first sight
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| They ploughed through the morning and into the night
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| With teeth rotten black and a rank leather hide
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| This hideous creature his bestial bride
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| And a hey-ho he’s ploughing a troll!
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| The gods only know how the key fits the hole
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| A cavernous cave for his puny old pole
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| And a hey-ho he’s ploughing a troll!
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| After time his excitement it started to droop
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| He groaned at her farts and her cold onion soup
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| The troll fixed his eye with a scowl made of stone
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| And when the guards came around all they found were his bones
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| And a hey-ho he was ploughing a troll!
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| The gods only know how the key fit the hole
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| No burial mound and no rest for his soul
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| Because hey-ho he was ploughing a troll!
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| And a hey-ho he was ploughing a troll!
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| The gods only know how the key fit the hole
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| A dirty auld tale from the bed to the bowl
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| Because hey-ho he was ploughing a troll!
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| Ploughing a troll |