a man called Jim

come my friends, hear this tale
of ol’ man Jim from Lovelyassdale
a peculiar name for a town, you’d say
but he was a peculiar man, and he had his way
y’see ol’ man Jim, he owned the place
from east to west, till the cows could graze
aye, he was a good man too
as sweet as first winter’s dew
but this good man, had his quirks few
(like all gentlemen of his age do)
no it wasn’t gambling, liquor or any such vice
in hindsight, those might even be nice
y’see ol’ man Jim, he loved his wife’s bum
so much so, he called it his best chum
and when she walked, he eyed her backside
like an exhausted Da Vinci, beaming with pride
he loved to grab her when she wasn’t looking
when she was cleaning, when she was cooking
soon it started preying on his mind
this copious bulge of his missus’ behind
round, big, so very soft
like sweet hay in a dark barn loft
oh how he longed to clench those buns
and sink his teeth into each one
he touched them every chance he could
(even when he had to say “touchwood!”)
his wife, the good soul, she bore it all
even when he followed her to nature’s call
he watched her pee, he watched her poop
then wiped her lovingly with a saliva scoop
he watched her bathe, he soaped her there
and thanked the lord she had a pair
and when she snuggled up to him in bed
he flipped her on her stomach instead
he didn’t mind if she had the flu
did her with a polite “howdy do?”
he didn’t care if she had a headache
said, “there’s always aspirin for you to take”
he didn’t stop when she got the piles
that’s when the good wife finally got riled
so the next time that he reached for her lovely rump
she ran to the well, and in she jumped
and in her memory, he gave the town its name
but for ol’ man Jim, things haven’t been the same.

ram cobain