I thought I might drink some green blood,

perhaps blue blood or red wine blood.

Perhaps I might eat sausage blood

on a biscuit in the morning.

I thought I wanted to disclose my onions

to my sister Rose.

I thought I might give me a pose

or I thought so in the morning.

I wonder who I thought I might

see underwear in pickled blight.

I thought I might give him a fright

with onions over my earlobes.

I wonder if you thought I was

a pickled bird, an onion herb.

I thought I might be onion soup.

But I'm not, I am a human.

I wonder if you thought a bear

could wear underwear over there.

I wonder if you thought a pear

could do anything with the mourning.

I wonder how my onions did

when they were out away as kids

I wonder how my onions did

as they were singing, as we bid.

I thought perhap this song was good

but I was wrong it's just a skunk.

I thought perhaps this song was good.

But it is just deficient junk.

I wonder if you wonder of my

pickled onion lumpy bat.

I thought I pickled souper sack,

but I love cute little black cats.

I wonder why the pickled shrew

left onion pickles in my brew.

I thought a bagel bubble bump

but humans are a little lump.

I wonder if I was a bird,

a pickled crop, an onion block.

I thought I might find I am heard,

if I pickled with the whole flock.