Wednesday, February 28, 2007


I have, in Matters Physical,
A single, sole complaint.
There is nothing as obnoxious as
A Warhead in the Taint.

With this part of my anatomy
I don’t care to be acquaint
Ed. But I know it of necessity
When a Warhead’s in my Taint.

To discuss these loathsome matters
I have little self-restraint.
What compels me to go tell ye
’Bout the Warhead in my Taint?

It’s difficult to reach it
For with iodine to paint
There is nothing as repulsive as
A Warhead in the Taint.

Inflammation makes it painful -
T’would provoke a very Saint.
Excruciating? Nothing beats
A Warhead in the Taint.

I’d really like to squeeze it, but
It hurts too much. I cain’t.
There is nothing quite as tender as
A Warhead in the Taint.

The very thought of popping it
’S enough to make me faint.
It’s hard to get much lev’rage on
A Warhead in the Taint.

I got out the mirror and checked ’im -
It’s an inch and a half South-South-West of my rectum!

O, Lord up in the heavens,
Please attend my mournful plaint -
Preserve thy humble servant
From the Warhead in the Taint.

No comments: