The purified carbon,

The life of the garden,

Rode me all night long,

Baby you can do no wrong,

Gardening is a sin,

We know where youve been,

Keep me alive,

By growing wild,

So that we can have child,

Happy and mild,

Like it should be,

A garden with one tree,

Cranes may lift,

Coal may burn,

For you, ill always yearn,

Until we both learn,

That its our turn,

To rest and play, 

Away in the land of the brave,

Where young cried,

For pochahantos his bride.