The Wreck of the flaccid John Harold
tune: Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

The legend lives on in the whole of God's world
Of the blue pill they know as Viagra
Viagra, it's said, helps your dick when it's dead
And the blood rushes in like Niagra
With a load of cheap beer and a dirty old man's leer
I brought my young bride to the bedroom
She took off her socks then she looked at my cock,
Said, "that little thing won't take much headroom!"

Now my insides just died when my lovely young bride
Made fun of my too-flaccid Johnson
As the big weiners go, it is smaller than most
Like the small ones they grow in Wisconsin
But haven't we all learned that the smallest of worms
Can still get the job done in fashion?
But later that night when I turned out the light
My ego, it down came a-crashin'

When the vital time came, she looked at my pecker
And said, "fella, I can't hardly see ya!"
That wasn't the thing to excite my young schwing
Nor was, "fella, I'd sure hate to be ya!"
Does anyone know where the love of God goes
When you wait for your manhood to flower?
And I would still say we'd have made love that day
If she'd waited another half hour

But she huffed on out with a snarl and a pout
And the next day she served divorce papers
And me I was stuck with a dick that can't f*ck
And the bill from the wedding day caterers
In a musty old room in Detroit I prayed
For a way to pump up my libido
Then I heard the good news of the near-instant screws
Provided by a nose-spray so speedo!

Now my new wife sings with a low moaning sound
As we roll in the arms of one another
Just one little snort and my pecker so short
Stands up and salutes my new lover!

Copyright © 2001 Alex Riggle. All Rights Reserved.