Show me your thing
I’m traveled and lonely
and I’ve lost my spy ring
The professor sits high
and stares at the sky
While the skipper sits quietly
and eats her big pie.
Ginger’s just there…
she keeps fixing her hair
And Thruston is bloated
he won’t move from that chair
Lovey, Oh Lovey…
won’t you show me your thing
I’ll wind up that record
and find something to sing
Lovey, Oh Lovey…
won’t you show me your thing
Maynard Hartman
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lovey-oh-lovey/
