| (Copyright) by Dwight Fleming (Oroville, California) |
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| One fine day, In the middle of May, I was lookin’ down the street, When I smelled someone’s feet. I turned and there I found, Those dirty, stinkin’ feet on the ground. I grabbed ahold of them and away I went. I almost passed out from the awful scent. I reached the creek just in time. The soap I used worked just fine. I washed those feet till they stunk no more. But now the fishin’ there really is poor. Composed by Dwight Fleming A foot soldier in the service of The Almighty King |
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