They say the Easter bunnies comes the same time every year,
escaping from a Lab somewhere, they holes up around here.
They smells of smoke and iodine, wear lipstick and eye drops,
They’s lost her lucky feet somewhere and that is why they hops.
Their Coney furs desirable, and their quarters good for food,
although not free of chemicals, it really tastes quite good.
Their wracking coughs and bloodshot eyes, puts hunters off the match,
tobacco drugs and alcohol, makes them an easy catch.
Their chocolate eggs they lays in fields, each wrapped in silver foil,
are excellent when eaten fresh, but awful when they’re boiled.