No cheese up there, friend,
Only a rose petal and
A lone Hershey’s kiss.
A lone Hershey’s kiss
Just ain’t gonna get it done
But a lone bag will
But a lone bag will
probably have lots of cats;
call her Muriel.
Call her Muriel,
The sister of Ishmael.
She’s not a sailor.
She’s not a sailor
So she can not be blamed for
All of the seamen
All of the seamen
On the sheets and blankets, life
On a battleship
On a battleship,
Rum, sodomy, and the lash
Are rife thought Churchill.
Are rife, thought Churchill,
between contemplative sips
of a superb port
Of a superb port
A harbor should have beauty,
Like Port Botany.
Like Port Botany,
Georgia was founded as a
Penal colony.
-“BB”-
Penal colony
Isn’t what it sounds like. Look
somewhere else, ladies.
Somewhere else, ladies
Are crazy 'bout dudes like me
But not up in here
But not up in here;
I am doomed to solitude.
Maybe I should bathe?
Maybe I should bathe?
The stench is getting too much
Clothes peg on my nose.
Clothes peg on my nose
Would be too much. My glasses
Pinch more than enough.
Pinch more than enough
Salt for that recipe, your
BP will tattle
BP Will tattle
was an eighteenth century
British explorer.
“British explorer”
Could also refer to a
Tourist in Bristol.
-“BB”-
Tourist in Bristol
Was so lost he met a lost
Tourist in Ipswich
Tourist in Ipswich,
the Portuguese prog rock band,
never existed.