Old Twizzle McSpankypants writes in the snow
He gets an idea and his thoughts start to flow
In the summer he keeps all his thoughts in his head
But his wife gets pissed off when he writes in the bed
The teachers all wanted him expelled from school
But they couldn't touch him for using his tool
For writing such fantastic essays and poems
"Just blot out the smell, and some day we may show 'em."
"What a whiz with division!" his math teacher wrote
"But when asked to do fractions, he peed on my coat.
Still, he's a smart lad. He's always been sharp.
But when Algebra starts, I will lay down a tarp!"
When he used to write music, he waved his baton
But when composing at school he would keep his pants on
He writes hasty porn novels all during sex
And dips Willie in inkwells when he's stuck signing checks
Twizzle never made Army 'cause they said he's 4-F
He lost every job that he had as a chef
When he taught kindergarten, the school ran him off
Now he just writes what grabs him, and then turns to cough
When he scrawls poetry spilling all passions felt
Does he write from the heart or below the belt?
When asked why he does this, he tried to explain
"A toilet? No, sir! All my work down the drain!"
His neighbors get mad at his using his pee
To write all his journals and to make his iced tea
So he wrote "I'm so sorry" on their whitewashed fence
When they screamed "What a dick!" he just smiled and looked dense
When the cops saw him writing, they threw him in jail
Where he marked out the days and the cell became stale
From the reek of his calendar there on the wall
It ran out through the bars and into the hall
The Judge yelled "Time served!" and set Twizzle free
Where the old man danced joyfully, brimming with glee
When asked if he'd consider not doing it again
He said "Sure," and he smiled. "May I borrow a pen?"
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