Ned made me glad. He said he had
an antique Cad
in his garage. We ate fromage
on a voyage
from here to France. We’d met by chance
through song and dance
while on that cruise. We had to choose
waltzes or blues.
Ned chose to croon about the moon
near the saloon
on the poop deck. He said, ”Aw heck,
Nan. Crane your neck!”
I trained my eye up toward the sky
where, soaring high,
a passing bird let loose a turd.
My scream was heard
from ship to shore; and furthermore--
with bullseye score--
gull poop did plop with flip and flop
that caused a stop
to cataract’s sight-stealing acts,
Blind eye was healed as sea bird reeled.
New sight revealed
Ned was a jock quite like the cock
on a wind sock.
With scars dissolved, near-blindness solved,
I was resolved
I’d like to dance--enjoy romance--
Pull Old Ned’s pants
Down to the floor so we could score
hot love galore.
And so I said, “Ned, go ahead.
We’re not yet dead!
Show me that Cad you said you had.”
Ned’s pants were plaid.
I pulled; Ned tugged and, clearly bugged,
he simply shrugged.
His pants fell off. I cleared a cough.
Ned cried, “Don’t scoff!”
Two little sticks stood like toothpicks.
“They’re double dicks,”
Old Ned began. “I’m half the man
You thought I am.”
“No,” I cried. “Whee! You’re twice the he
I thought you’d be.”
What makes me sad and downright mad
Is I’m the cad
Ned calls me Nan. My real name’s Dan.
I am a man!
Edgar Allan Philpott