Balls

I've been in your kitchen, I've been in your halls
I'll stand in your doorway and sing of my balls
My balls! My balls!
I'll stand in your doorway and sing of my balls

Now, I've climbed your tall mountains and crossed your great plains
I've lassoed your cattle and kicked out their brains
On the sands of West Texas, where the coyote calls
I'll stand on your badlands and sing of my balls

Now, I've swum all your rivers and sailed all your seas
Picked apples and peaches and harvested peas
In Northern California, where the redwood grow talls
I'll stand in your hot-tub and sing of my balls

Now, I've sung at Bar Mitzvahs and other occasions,
On prize-winning floats, and at peace demonstations
Been compared to Harry Chapin, Lou Reed and Lou Rawls
I'll stand on your stage and I'll sing of my balls

Now, I rode with old Hannibal, when he crossed the Alps
I fought beside Blackhawk, and cut off your scalps
And with mighty Ceasar, who conquered the Gauls
I'll stand on your windpipe and sing of my balls

Now, my song is ending, though it's barely begun
And if I'm not well-heeled, well at least I'm well-hung
And sometimes in a rainstorm, when the Pontiac stalls
I'll stand on the roadside and sing of my balls