Cromwell The Wombat The Wombats

The tasmanian tiger, napoleon's liger, bandicoots, rat kangaroos, peter the spiny anteater
And all their other friends

This is the story of cromwell the wombat
A small little fellow, and in his burrow he sat
He put on his makeup and powdered his nose
Off he popped to tracy the possum, in his sunday best clothes
Little did he know the tasmanian devil was on the prowl and low and behold
Poor cromwell dropped his bowels
The stench that was indigested berriеs, roots and leaves
Sent ol' hungry tazzеr running with his tail between his knees

Off cromwell ran, like a bat out of hell
He knew tracy had the horn, and her pheromones he could smell
So like a mouse to the cheese
Small crom whizzed along
Safe in the knowledge tracy was going to get hounded all night long, to accuse this wombat of impotence would be a crime most heinous, because this young adonis had a bone in his penis