My friend came to me with an unusual claim.
“Wheelbarrows and women are completely the same!
They work in the garden, they hold bags of dirt.
Some are quite prudish, the others are flirts.
They both have some legs and they both have a wheel,
And neither will mind if you give them a feel.
Sure, one’s made of flesh and the other of wood,
But I can’t tell the difference – I’m sure nobody could!”
But wheelbarrows and women are not the same thing.
Keep one in a shed, give the other a ring.
A barrow will serve you the rest of your life,
But a woman’s the one that you make your wife.
Now, fella, don’t you get the two confused.
Try to load up a woman, you might be refused.
But barrows will carry the things that you’ve piled.
They’ll carry it all, except for a child.
He said, “But barrows and women both love romance,
And they both like to kiss, and they both love to dance.
You might be correct, you might be on the mark,
But wheelbarrow or woman, who cares in the dark?”
