Breaking the speed limit, I drove to the airport. I was running late for my red eye home to Arizona. On my dash to the gate, I made a quick pit stop, and at the gate I learned that my flight was delayed for 3 hours because of the weather. I sat down and noticed an elderly lady looking at me and laughing. I looked down at my front and saw why. I turned 2 shades of crimson. I had rushed too fast in the restroom. No, it wasn’t my zipper. Well, three hours of wasted time, so I felt creative, got out my laptop and produced the following. Wi fi works here, so I’ll share it. Bob can delete if it’s offensive.
SHAKE IT AND DANCE
Just a couple years after I was born
I became sad and much forlorn,
when my daddy taught me how to pee
and it became quite clear to me,
that no matter how much you shake it and dance,
the last drop always goes down your pants.
About ten years later I became a youth
and my sweet mom bought me a brand new suit.
At Sunday school, I just had to go
and the front of the suit began to show
that no matter how much you shake it and dance,
the last drop always goes down your pants.
In another ten years I was ready to wed.
“Hell yes” when ask, was what Mary said.
At the vows, a damp spot on my tuxedo,
added strength to my aforementioned credo
that no matter how much you shake it and dance,
the last drop always goes down your pants.
About a year later we had our first child.
Like his mom and dad he was sassy and wild.
He grew out of his diapers and learned real fast
when you wear real clothes and cover your ass,
that no matter how much you shake it and dance,
the last drop always goes down your pants.
Now that I’m older and my hands shake a bit,
I find with my aim, it’s harder to hit
the can with a weak yellow stream,
which brings me around to my original theme,
that no matter how much you shake it and dance
the last drop always goes down your pants.
