Tried to see you yesterday I had so many things I wanted to say Yet when knocked your mother answered the door Said I can see you no more. Why? I asked her politely You're not her type, she said, you're too carefree So take your bunch of wild petunias and go We don't want you here no more Now why does it always have to be me Who gets picked upon just like three Daisies in a jam jar looking bored Or three Spanish bullfighters That have just been gored Why don't you try helping me By telling your mother how charming I can be And maybe the next time that I knock on your door She won't send me away no more.