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The Really Sick Note

Words: © 1992, 1993 by Tom Smith, after Pat Cooksey
Music: "The Garden Where The Praties Grow" (Irish trad.)
The last verse explains why I wrote the song -- my first tape, Who Let Him In Here?, came out in January 1991, and my second, Domino Death (due in late 1992), didn't show up until May 1994. Many other little things led to the lyrics, including The Story Of Tom's Toothache, Wix The Cat, And The Waterbed Of Doom... but that's another story. Speaking of other stories, I not only found out who wrote the darn song and why, but I found his official web page.

My friends, I sing this little song to tell a tale of woe,
About a misadventure that I had a while ago,
I've managed to recover, but I'm telling you the truth:
To pick up girls is now a game of my forgotten youth.

I was sitting in a local pub, from my house not too far.
I nursed a couple Pepsis and devoured their taco bar,
When in she walked, or should I say, she made an enter-ance,
'Twas then I realized how bloody damn tight were my pants.

She moved across the floor like 'twas quicksilver in her joints,
My face grew hot, and my blood pressure shot up twenty points,
She looked around, her eyes met mine, and then she smiled at me --
And that's the very moment that I really had to pee.

To my surprise and joy, she was still there on my return,
And as we sat and talked, familiar flames began to burn,
And so, the long and short of it, when everything was said:
We went back to her place to pressure-test the water bed.

We started getting friendly, then we started getting brash,
Then we started getting naked, moving faster than The Flash,
With both her hands in mine, right down upon the bed I sat,
And that's when I discovered that the lady had a cat.

Well, Tabby whipped around and sank her claws into my leg,
And I began to howl and bleed and whine and curse and beg,
And Tabby ripped the mattress open as she tried to flee,
And spilled the damn massage oil over lady, bed, and me.

I gave a yelp and grabbed the cat, the fur flew fast and thick.
We found ourselves awash on a patchouli oil slick,
The blanket tried to throttle me, and amidst this frantic damp,
The cat tried once more to escape, and broke the bedside lamp.

Now, water, oil, and voltage spell "electrolysis" to me,
And in that half-ton lava lamp, our split ends ceased to be.
We're soggy, burnt, and hairless, but friends, what's really bad,
Is, that's the most fantastic sex that I have ever had.

I'm doing rather better, since that monkey-love deep-fry.
My body hair has all grown back, most nights I'm pretty dry,
But I've sworn off babes with water beds, and cats who can't escape --
And now you know why it took so long to get my second tape.

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