FAT GIRLS
(As sung by Tim Henderson)

They're the crown of creation, the thinking man's bride.
Ain't much for tall, but they're pure hell for wide.
Why, loving a fat girl's like loving the moon
Or being old Captain Ahab with a sawed-off harpoon.

Now, there's fat girls and fat girls, but the ones I like best,
They rear up on tiptoe, and they can't reach your chest.
They're God's gift to man, sent from heaven above,
And they never need pillows to help them make love.

Here's to wiggling and giggling, and twinkling blue eyes,
Pneumatic bodies and billowy thighs.
No high-fashion types with that gunk in their hair --
All big feet and elbows, and nothing to spare.

Hell, you just go and check your art history book:
Old Titian and Rubens, they knew how girls should look.
Well, the whole world's gone skinny, and it's just a big mess.
I say, Down with the girdle, and I'll do the rest.

Oh, they're dumpy and comfy, and lord, they can cook:
When it comes to domestic, now, they wrote the book.
And the thing you should try when the snow blows and swirls
Is a featherbed sandwich with two big fat girls.

Oh, they're dumpy and comfy, and lord, they are cute
Good to a man, and then grateful to boot,
But one thing, remember while you're having fun:
When a fat girl looks pregnant, it's too late to run.

So you roll to the altar with your Moby bride,
Cloud of white satin near fifty yards wide,
And you do a big favor for this skinny world
If you lay back in comfort and raise more fat girls.