Ballad of Viagra

I dreamed I saw The Pill last night,
A-restin’ on my knee;
And next to it, my shrivelled cock,
Its inches, less than three.
Its inches, less than three.

In Salt Lake City, ten years back,
Kate guided me to bed
And framed it with her massive tits
I knew then it weren’t dead.
I knew then it weren’t dead.

But now it seems my little Dick
Can never rise to luck
Even when I can pick one up,
Dick can’t give her a fuck.
Dick can’t give her a fuck.

However pert her titties are,
However cute her ass,
I just can’t seem to get it up;
I always have to pass.
I always have to pass.

It died, my sex drive, completely;
Maybe it’s due to beer.
Takes more than age to kill a dick;
I wonder if I’m queer.
I wonder if I’m queer.

Now, in my dream, I took the pill
And then looked down to see.
Dick was at least ten inches long
‘I never died,’ said he.
‘I never died,’ said he.

I licked her out till she was primed
Then shoved it in (no lies)
Old Dick went on from there to grow
To even greater size.
To even greater size.

But it was just a dream of course;
Viagra cannot vaunt
What Mother Nature doesn’t need
A senile man to want.
A senile man to want.

From San Diego up to Maine,
And in the doctor’s lab –
Where aging men inspect their dicks
It’s there you’ll find this tab.
It’s there you’ll find this tab.

I dreamed I took The Pill last night,
A-restin’ on my knee;
And next to it, my shrivelled cock,
Its inches, less than three.
Its inches, less than three.

Its inches, less than three.

**************************
Time to get that old organ out again. It’s a ballad, so there’s tune: “The Ballad of Joe Hill”, which every red blooded American will know by heart. For the rest of us, if you don’t already know the tune, you can get the music from the internet easily. Or better, listen to what I think is the definitive recording. The unsurpassable one by Paul Robeson, recorded live in Moscow in 1949.