Shine like a mirror, shine like a new pin.
I spat on my rag and rubbed circles in;
But rub as I did, and spit as I may.
These boots would not shine, not ever, no way!

I looked over at Benny, on his bedside rug,
And said, "how come yours are shining, you mug!"
It must be the spit, the thought crossed my mind,
Maybe Benny's was better, - and just the right kind.

"Come over here!" I said with a frown,
"And spit on my rag or I'll knock you down!"
He was looking at me in a real strange way,
I said "get your arse into gear, I aint got all day!"

Just ten minutes later, no longer I swear,
Two shinier boots you would ever compare;
So Benny, my buddy, polished my boots every night,
For besides being smaller, his spit was just right.