Dirty Balls
by MrDaMan
Virgil R. Hall II (Randy)

I’ve really got to wash my balls!
They’ve been swinging left and right
through the muck of political discourse.

They’ve been juggled, squeezed and abused,
drug through the dirt and the mud so much
that they are barely recognizable.

When they say "political football"…
prepare for a dirty fight because that’s
when the foot and the ball make a connection.

Whack, whack, whack…
Left field, right field and into the outfield.
One of these days… I’ll learn to protect my balls.

I’d take my balls and go home but…
they took them from me and are playing keep away!
I’m in the center and they keep teasing me… my balls.

They don’t like me, they don’t want me to play,
they wouldn’t pick me… they just want my balls.
Why do I keep exposing myself for this?

I mean really just what did I expect?
They’re just hanging out there…
Balls are meant to be played with, but, but…

They’re my balls and I expect some respect,
I try to keep them clean and shapely for just
the right occasions, they mean a lot to me.

So when I get them back this time, all mottled,
filthy and abused. If I tuck them away and refuse
to bring them back out… It’s because of you.

Perhaps in time if you play nicely and let me
call the shots… let me control the game.
Maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you wash my balls.

I totally expect however that I’ll forever be
Charlie Brown and you’ll be Lucy…
and dirty balls are a fact of life.