One thing I loved when younger
was a roll in freshly cut hay,
the scent when newly mown
turned me on to natures play.

I used to work on a farmstead
in fields with my working pals,
and to cut a long story short
I was the one and only gal.

Now the farmer was my father
and he kept his eye on me,
as soon as he turned his back
for fifteen minutes I was free.

I never got the name of the lad
for I wasn`t that way inclined,
my fantasy being a roll in the hay
and he said he didn`t mind.

So off we sped to the hay loft
to sneak in a rough and tumble,
but my father beat me to it
alas he had me rumbled.

We rolled around having fun
me just an innocent lass,
the lad yelled with all his might
with a pitch fork up his ass.