Between you and me,
Each channeled stream,
And the Bridgeford rolls factory,

I think I may survive to meet thee.
By hook and certainly by crook
And perhaps on bended knee,

Through the jaws of the coyote
The urban heat island effect,
And the stars I can hardly see.

By specialist bees,
Old oak trees,
And the deepest blue I see,
I swear I will save 
ALL my pretty pink ribbons
For thee.