Thursday, April 30, 2009

The Hermit

Words to an old song I wrote in the 1970s.

The Hermit

Here's to his mouth,
and here's to his nose.
And here's to the fungus,
that lives between his toes.

And here's to his welts,
and here's to his bites:
the ticks on his skin,
and his hair full of mites.

For he is a hermit,
(and I don't mean "crab"):
he lives in a cave,
that's awfully drab.

And when night has fallen,
and everyone's asleep,
he'll skulk down his mountain,
and into town he'll creep.

And then he'll grab a virgin,
and pull her by the hair,
right back up his mountain,
where he will strip her bare.

And then he will attack her,
and cut her into pieces,
so beware for your wife,and beware for her life,
and your sisters and daughters and nieces.

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