One man shouted, "I've got a knife,
But it's no use of carving;
If we do, there isn't enough
To keep us all from starving."
"I suggest we all go to bed.
Then," said Pat Mahoney,
"He who has the nicest dream,
Wins the bologna."
They all got up the very next morn
At twenty after seven.
One man said, "I dreamt that I died,
And went straight up to Heaven.
I swept through the beautiful gates,
Riding on a pony.
You can't beat a dream like that,
So I win the bologna."
His friend said, "I dreamt that I
Died from overeating;
I went up to Heaven myself.
Oh, what a greeting!
Old Saint Peter smiled and he said,
'How are you, Maloney?'
You can't beat a dream like that,
So I win the bologna."
The third man said, "I'll have to admit
I know you two aren't lying.
I dreamt that the both of you died,
Oh, how I was crying!
You went up to heaven and then,
While I felt so lonely,
I dreamt you weren't coming back,
So I ate the bologna!"
Nothin' yet.