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.