1

My old man's small, shriveled and shrunk;
When a crummy horse has no bridle, who enjoys the ride?
The river swells, the boat rides high,
Too bad his pole is short.
How will he ever touch bottom?
2

My old man's small and unromantic;
We share the same bedcurtains but not the same pillow.
I joined to your household a fine patch of land;
Too bad you don't know how to plant it.
Every year the harvest of its flowers will be reaped by others.