The Penis Song - Momus

Buckminster Fuller, inventor of the geodesic dome

Once gave a lecture he entitled 'everything I know'

Taking the title literally, he spoke four years or so

And I intend to do the same, so make yourself at home

(Pull up a chair, smoke a cigar or something)

Cynthia Plaster Caster once took my cast and showed me

In a penis exhibition in a gallery on Broadway

So many people saw my penis in its glass case

They recognise my penis now before my face

Subject for today: does knowledge elevate or demean us?

Everything you didn’t want to know about my penis

A baker has a penis thing for flattening the dough

But stick it in the oven and it rises up, like so

The man who chops the melons up with a long and pointed knife

Has a penis with a mottled skin, I know, I asked his wife

(Very curious)

A priest beneath his cassock has a penis all the same

Some call the hypothalamus the penis of the brain

One man’s sport is fly fishing, another’s, pocket billiards

Congratulations, Watson, on your almost-Freudian brilliance

The comedian from hell always thinks he can entertain us

With everything we didn’t want to know about his penis

Like the heather of the Highlands, mine is tipped with flecks of purple

With a head as wise as Solomon, although shaped like a turtle

It wears a flesh-tone roll-neck and the neck goes up and down

It comes out in the evenings and on Friday paints the town

Obsessively, compulsively, it only wants one thing

To fill your chosen orifice with ropes of pearly string

Delivering its message to your womb or to your tongue

And then going slack and flaccid when its pressing work is done

In witty conversation, by drip or intravenus

I drop everything you didn’t want to know about my penis

It’s a very fine philosopher, debating right and wrong

Shows promise as a songwriter (it writes most of my songs)

Don’t bury it in boxer shorts but wear it like a tie

Or avant garde jewellery hanging from your fly

(Very chic!)

Jean Luc Godard once declared, to gales of mystified laughter

That some men wash their hands before they touch it, others after

And if you slot it carefully where the sun will never shine

You’ll feel what’s mine becoming yours, what’s yours becoming mine

Ladies and hermaphrodites, my tender-hearted readers

Everything you didn’t want to know about my penis

There was a bohemian monk

Who went to bed in a bunk

He dreamt that Venus

Was stroking his penis

And woke up all covered in…

Thought for the day: does abstinence dirty us or clean us?

Everything you didn’t want to know about my penis

It’s a tribute to the power of something otherwise mundane

That waving it under a stranger’s nose is said to scar his brain

I’m doing my bit to see the power of taboo remains intact:

I keep a penis on my head but never lift my hat

(I keep a penis on my head but never lift my hat)

And if I’ve bored you stiff with this riff about my penis

I wouldn’t let a little thing like that come between us

And if you can think of another song even more atrocious

Well supercalifragilisiticexpifuckingdocious