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My son is home from "cop school" this weekend. As we were driving last night he asked me if I was ready to compete. "Let's find out," I replied, "Give me a challenge". He pondered a bit and said, "Write a song about piece of lint." My deadline was 5 minutes. This is what I sang for him:
Johnny McGee had a big ball of lint
He gathered where e're he was able
Some of it came from the dryer;
Some of it came from his navel.
Then he wove it into a luxurious wig
He wore on special occasions
Like birthday parties and musical gigs
And also to special liasons.
Let's hear it for Johnny McGee!
And cheer for the obvious reasons!
He wove it into a luxurious wig
And wore it on special occasions!
A song like this deserves a matching performance, don't you think?
Surely that's a five-minute masterpiece. Be very afraid.
Of course, now my son is deathly afraid that someday genetics will kick in and he'll be committed to a rubber room.
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