Poor is the carrot whose flesh is red
Who is headed and washed and sliced and shred

With lovers many the country o’re
Yet I trust she’s mine down to the core

And why do you have those blushing cheeks
When I your love have sought for weeks?

Long and slender and green for a hat
A skin so tender all love to pat-

To me a pleasure throughout life's length.
And to have her near surely gives me strength.

And how I love her; and woe is me
If I Miss Carrot don’t often see.

My love is hers as I have told,
This golden beauty I long to hold.

I eagerly press her to my lip
Or else with hand her body grip.

Her lovers are many t’is plain to see
But surely of all non love like me.

How I would squeeze her and stroke her skin
And open my mouth and would toss her in.