Rocks on the ground are trippin’ me.
I slip, go down with a plop.
Ripped my toe, stung, it’s hurting me…
so much blood I need a mop.

Rocks on the ground were trippin’ me—
now the rift does more than sting.
Not soon will I be jumpin’ high.
Think I need tourniqueting.

I’ve got an exsanguination feeling, and I fear:
feckless fall from footloose folly.
Next, I bawl…not at all jolly.

Rocks on the ground are pissin’ me off—
a crappy, rotten day!
There’ll be no dancing now for me…
no new-fashioned hoof, I pray!

Now I’ve got a vexed and fainting feeling, as when beer
joyfully I too much swallow.
Please, no joke ’bout leg that’s hollow!

Rockin’ on ground: medics’ gurney
as it slowly hauls me ’way.
Ambulance takes me rapidly
where I’ll foot the bill next day,
in a new-toe-fashioned way.