here come the billygoats down the track so
heavily hung with dongs that dangle
down in the dust and balls that swing
from side to side to clonkerty bells
that roll and toll on their necks the melody
ripples into the stone pine fragrance
cypress shadows the nannies plunging
onward struggling big with milk so
heavily hung with lolloping mammaries
yobs go head to head engage
in clouting rebuttals crashing the valley
all afternoon and the goatherd Gerrero
fords the ceaseless rivers of goatspiss
shouting las cabras son malas
