Mud is a turgid thing,
and it make a mirey stink,
Brown as lint from dryers.
I smell it; it’s the stink of mire.

I smell it, the gut-churning stink of mire.
Brings me down, down, down
to my knees; I perspire.
I don’t yearn, yearn, yearn
for stink of mire,
no stink of mire!

I smell it, the gut-turning stink of mire.
Brings me down, down, down
to my knees...can’t respire.
I don’t yearn, yearn, yearn
for stink of mire,
no stink of mire!

It’s base as rancid meat;
aroma isn’t sweet.
I smell something pretty vile
Gross…it’s a rhinish trial.

I smell…shit? No, the nose-hurt stink of mire.
When it come around,
I hasten to retire.
I don’t yearn, yearn, yearn
for stink of mire,
no stink of mire!
Worse than turds, turds, turds,
the stink of mire,
the stink of mire.