ticker tacker ticker tacker, what’s the size of old man flicker?

does he obtrusively understand the merry means many? or are they hidden from the tongue in the ways of the sissy boy buried?

old man mary marry the brusied willow wands, won’t you?

for their leaves are wilting and the sprouts are curling fast into wee bit crinkles of dandelion dead man’s dust and moral desertion.