It rolled off the table
And onto the floor,
And then my poor meatball
Rolled out of the door.

It rolled in the garden
And under a bush,
And then my poor meatball
Was nothing but mush.

The mush was as tasty
As tasty could be,
And then the next summer
It grew into a tree.

The tree was all covered,
All covered with moss,
And on it grew meatballs,
And tomato sauce.

So if you eat spaghetti
All covered with cheese,
Hold onto your meatball
Lest somebody sneeze.