I came from the golf course a little bit sour.
I felt weary and spent after many an hour.
I placed the irons and clubs of mine
in the locker of mesh wire one thirty-nine.
On the floor of the locker was an old shoe,
where something was stirring now what did it do?
I peered in the shoe gave it a try,
a toad looked back with a beady eye.
I scratched my head and asked it why
my shoe is too big why did you try?
It will never fit whatever you do
and anyway it is my used old shoe?

- I am trapped you old sod,
it quacked with a nod.
I have sat here for many an hour,
and that is no fun,
I assure you my son
and the smell in your shoe is quite sour.

- That statement from you
can only be true.
I am a weary old man
but I will give you a han'.
I will help you out of my shoe.
So I lifted him up and carried him out
to some grass that was quite wet with dew,
and I placed him there
to breathe some pure air
and poured him some water I fetched in my hat
'cause I was quite convinced of that:
It certainly carries a mental load
to be trapped in a shoe when you are a toad.

But I'll never find out and that is true
How that bloody toad got into my shoe.