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Many, many long years ago,
There was a tiny, rather ancient, kingdom by the sea,
Twas called Monemofomemo,
And many of the folks there wanted to flee.

Sad and depressed,
And bored to death,
Happiness a mere memory,
A shibboleth.

Some were rich,
With far too much to eat,
Life was very good,
For the pampered elite.

The poor lived hand to mouth,
The rich could care less,
They cared only about wealth,
Their own possessions and success.

The sick, the poor, and the malnourished,
Those who would never be free,
Had once been promised equity,
In a land of milk and honey.

Rumors of revolution,
Began to plague the Land,
Doom and division,
Seemed to be at hand.

So to sum it all up,
In one little phrase,
The King realized that he’d better,
Change his ways.

Or he would soon be,
Under a microscopic bubble,
In a pretty bad fix,
In really bad political trouble!


He thought and he thought,
Until he came up with a plan,
A scheme, a means, a manner….. a method, a way….. to find a solution for the,
Problems of his Land.

The King first turned to those under him,
Thinking that those with power should know,
But after a year it became rather clear,
That all the rich wanted was more and more dough.

Preachers who had always prided themselves,
For having had their own text were next,
Occasionally cared for the poor,
Who had often been vexed.

He knew that they were pious and,
Extremely devout,
And may have occasionally cared about,
Those who were down and out.

So the King rounded,
All of them up,
Inviting them to his castle,
For tea and to sup.

Rather than discussing ways to help,
The penniless, the poor, and those in pain,
They sat back engaging in polemics,
Theological debates and things arcane.

The King listened to them with all of his might,
And saw what he could see,
But after hearing such wind-jammer jabble,
He dismissed them all with glee.

Economists were brought together,
They drew up their motley plans,
Presented them to the people,
Who they felt would be their fans.

But to their surprise,
Their ideas were not approved,
And it wasn’t very long,
Until their butts were removed.

In came the sociologists wanting to resolve the riddle,
Lying at the very heart of Monemofomemo’s middle,
They examined the Kingdom’s state of disrepair,
Its folkways and despair in a report it was about to prepare.

After a great deal of contemplation,
Examination, cogitation, and thought,
Sociologists gave their plan to the King,
Which he had so longingly sought.

The King looked it over,
But it lacked one thing,
It didn’t seem quite right,
It had no zing.

So the King rather graciously,
Thanked them for their assistance,
Praising them for their,
Hard work, pride, and persistence.

Then the historians,
To the King’s palace they came,
To avoid tomorrow’s problems,
Things must not remain the same.

Historians are an odd breed,
Not at all easy to read,
They know about the past,
But what about today’s seed?

So they struggled to,
Come up with a reasonable proposal,
Something the King,
Wouldn’t throw into the disposal.

They labored,
In vain,
Till they nearly,
Became insane.

The King liked their logic,
And when he heard them he agreed,
But after looking at their plan,
There was nothing on which to proceed.

So the King thanked them,
And that was the end of their stay,
Since they would no longer be able to help him,
The King sent them on their way.

Now, not to forget the astronomers,
Who have gazed “the night so bright,”
Men who have pursued the stars,
To resolve mankind’s ongoing plight?

Having searched the universe,
Galaxies and planets too,
They had nothing whatsoever to offer,
So the King bid them farewell adieu!

He then assembled the philosophers,
Each and everyone in the Land,
Suspecting that they might have some answers,
He gathered them all in hand..

Each to his own,
And to thyself be true,
You have to know yourself,
In order to be you.

Well that made a lot of sense,
And he thought about giving their plan a try,
But he was worried that if he did,
The rich might try to kill him, and he might well die.

But he was also convinced,
That the philosophers knew what to do,
For they all had numerous degrees,
At the University of Situu.

They explained their plans,
To the King,
Hoping to receive his seal,
Mounted upon his mighty ring.

But out of the blue things fell apart,
Everything having apparently come unglued,
The King crossed his legs, gave them a look,
And announced, “You’re finished, you’re through, you’re screwed!”

Then the next day the King,
Finding that the wizard had been speaking,
With others about the island’s problems,
Words of wisdom that might be worth seeking.

The King invited the wizard to his castle,
Tell me more about your plan to save my people,
What do you propose,
Does it involve rituals, witchcraft, spells, or a steeple?

No, my Lord, it is something far more creative,
Something that will catch the attention of every single being,
Something so absolutely wonderful that,
From our land no one would ever want to be caught fleeing.

And so no one would know,
The King closed the door,
And said, “Young man,
Please tell me more.”

The wizard took his time,
And gave him his spiel,
The King liked what he heard,
And it was a deal.

The next day the entire Kingdom,
Met near The Glen,
Where the Kings had once gathered,
To be cleansed from their sin.

The wizard,
In his brightly purple-colored regale,
Sitting right next to the King,
His new found pal.

Announced…. “The problem is solved!”
As everybody began to cheer,
I’ll create a man with long balls,
Someone they could respect and revere.

So the wizard,
Laid out his plan,
For the people,
To understand.

Confessing to them,
That a long time ago,
There was such a man,
Who lived thus and so.

He traveled many, many miles,
Upon rocks and sand,
But when it was all over,
He had saved this very land.

It was eons ago,
Nobody knows exactly when,
But by the time it was all over,
Time had run rather thin.

In those days there were glailing gasees,
That glailed the glassing gleases,
Strapless steamers,
That sailed the savrant seas.

Men wailed wildly,
Into the brazen breeze,
While women wrapped wrappers,
Around their knobby little knees.

Men saddled silver shooters,
Shâffing the ancient skies,
Women followed behind them,
Translucent in disguise.

Like many others,
I could tell you about,
This man was reverent,
And no doubt devout.

But also I would have to say,
This man was odd, perhaps even a geek,
Much like a long-necked goose,
Perhaps even a freak.

And then there was a sect of,
Tea Viners divine,
Who would worship,
At the freak’s post portemous shrine.

They would line up next to,
His balls in order to pee,
So that their urine would be purified,
And thus washed into the sea.

Bright and shining,
As the day is long,
This man was much like,
Our beloved King Kong.

He was tall and mighty,
And loved by all of mankind,
He would search and search,
Until everything he would find.

Nothing would elude him,
Nothing at all,
Not even a thimble,
At the coroner’s ball.

Given that,
Such a man,
Had done it once before….. there was no doubt,
That one with “real balls” could do it once again!

So such a proposal,
Seemed just the right thing,
As all the people in the kingdom,
Began to sing.

Everyone was pleased,
With the wizard’s suggestion,
Except for a small child,
Who had a minor question.

What about the man himself,
How would he feel,
If his balls were stepped on,
Might he not squeal?

Well yes, that might be,
But for this particular kingdom,
It would be best,
To do this particular thingdom.

You see,
Most adults don’t take children seriously,
They consider them to be quite stupid,
And gawk at them rather mysteriously.

Anyway….. a man historic,
Who would have hard falls,
His name will now be,
Sir Huey Longballs.

He would do his duty,
For many long years,
Keeping people safe,
So they might ignore their fears.

Sir Huey slept by a meadow,
In a farm house next to the falls,
Children often peeked through the windows,
To get a look at his balls.

Stretching for miles,
They were always on display,
But nobody said a thing,
As Sir Huey had his way.

Every morning as he would rise,
He prayed for God to guide,
He always asked his Father
To be right next to his side.

He knew that he was odd,
But he never knew exactly why,
He wanted to find out,
But Sir Huey was so shy.

He was sure that his long balls,
Stood him out in a crowd,
But did that make a difference,
Since he made his people proud.

He was strong and firm,
Handsome with a violin,
He helped everyone he knew,
And did it with a grin.

Sir Huey spoke wonderfully,
He had a beautiful voice,
At funerals and weddings,
He was always the peoples’ choice.

The people loved Sir Huey,
He was such a fine fellow,
Always so very pleasant,
Moderate and mellow.

Sir Huey stood erect,
Head pointed toward the sky,
Everyone’s model of virtue,
He never told a lie.

But his ears were quite pointed,
People would sometimes laugh,
Unknowingly Sir Huey cried,
An alarmingly stupid gaffe.

Sir Huey had been provided,
A body with no peter,
Created by the wizard,
He had been given a special seater.

Not only could he poop,
With a double-dipped dooper,
But he could also pee,
With his splendid new pooper.

Folks were never able,
To accuse Huey of being sexual,
Because he had no erotic feelings,
And was incapable of being affectual.

Many years would pass before,
Anyone dared speak,
For fear they would upset,
The kingdom’s beloved freak.

To assist Sir Huey,
On his many long crawls,
Anatomical legs were,
Attached to his balls.

They helped him to walk,
And to jump and to swim,
To do anything and everything,
That enabled him to be him.

He helped the Kingdom,
To build itself up,
He would plough ditches,
With his balls that were cupped.

When there were wars,
Sir Huey would defend,
His scrotum creating barriers,
Bringing skirmishes to an end.

He hated gambling with a passion,
It was a horrible vice,
He searched all over the kingdom,
Destroying all of their dice.

Pornography began to rule men’s minds,
As it ravaged the rot-ranked land,
Folks were inundated with erotica filth,
But Sir Huey easily took command.

There was corruption in the castle,
The kingdom was disgraced,
But Sir Huey changed the rules,
And many laws were replaced.

Folks becoming alcoholics,
Drunks were out on the street,
Nobody knew what to do,
Until Sir Huey was put on the beat.

Many were smuggling drugs,
Selling where they could,
But Sir Huey did what he had to do,
Stood firm and did what he should.

Choosing not to jail the addicts,
Most referred to as criminals,
Sir Huey built hospitals,
Staffed with professionals.

Then he turned to learning,
Kids didn’t seem to know a thing,
Kids never wanted to study,
They didn’t even want to sing.

Good teachers got fired,
For presenting ideas that provoked,
Whereas boring teachers kept their jobs,
Until the very day they croaked.

But that all made sense,
Because what if they learned,
One day they might rise up,
And became concerned.

They might try to change things,
Rock the foundations,
They might go crazy,
And have demonstrations.

Who knows,
What these kids might do,
If they were to find out,
What is true?

Everything was upside down,
Topsy turvy,
Kids were upset,
And becoming rather nervy.

Discipline was a problem,
And teachers were confused.
But Sir Huey wasn’t baffled,
He was simply bemused.

You see the problem,
Was really rather simple,
Students could not learn.
Because there was no nimple.

They were forced to learn by rote,
They could not understand,
Since teachers had them by the throat.

So, Sir Huey,
Trotted onto the stage,
Believing that,
He could turn the page.

Explaining that student’s interests,
Were key,
And that taking such into consideration,
Success would be guaranteed.

Why not pursue things that are better in life,
Like God, and goodness, and things that are true,
Doing such a thing would make it a better place,
For our children, for me, and for you.

It didn’t take long,
For teachers to come around,
As student’s learning,
Became profound.

No longer mired down,
By inanities in schools,
Students stopped acting,
Like stupid little fools.

The program worked,
And all were pleased,
The students studied to learn,
And guess what….. the teachers were appeased.

Then came religion,
A hard bean to burn,
With all the problems there,
Sir Huey would have to be stern.

First were the fundamentalists,
And their answers to everything,
Believing they were never wrong,
They were extremely right wing.

Sir Huey was in agreement,
That they were way off track,
He had to do something,
To bring religion back to smack.

So he prayed to God his Father,
What he should try to do.
He wandered through the Barren Lands.
To see his plan through.

Once upon arrival,
All the people there,
He announced the problem resolved,
No need to despair.

The answer is not religion,
Nor a search for one way,
But in peace, love, and justice,
Where everyone has a say.

Those on other isles,
See truth with their own eyes,
But just because theirs is different,
There’s no reason for despise.

The answer cannot be found,
In just one man’s church,
That cannot be the end,
Of a wise man’s search.

But if you end up being closed-minded,
You will be a tool,
You will have no doubt chosen to be,
A sanctimonious fool.

Only one thing,
Must be on your mind,
Peace, love, and justice,
Things that are truly divine.

If you want to be real,
Want to be like God,
Then stop all your foolishness,
And be willing to be odd.

Away with frivolous flights of fancy,
Stop playing stupid-assed games,
Stop going to hoity-toity, high-hatted parties,
And dropping famous people’s names.

Get on the wagon,
And help those who are needy,
Turn from your evil ways,
Those of you who have been greedy.

The time has come,
An opportunity for man,
A new way to live,
In this….. a brand new land.

From what went before,
We must begin anew,
With a bond of friendship,
That connects me with you.

But what we need now,
Is an illuminating phrase,
Something that will guide us,
Something that will amaze!

Something like the Golden Rule,
Something for mankind,
Something that can remind us,
To always be kind.

To always without exception,
Treat others,
As if they were our next door neighbor,
Our brothers.

To never walk,
In another man’s shoes,
Unless we are willing,
To feel the pains of his bruise.

Treat each other right,
And never abuse,
Live with love in our heart,
And we will have paid our dues.

But how are we to move goods,
From one to another,
From one of our citizens,
To that of his brother?

Need to think,
A solution is required,
Something that is practical,
Perhaps even inspired.

Something new,
Something old,
Something true,
Something bold!

From each according to his abilities,
To each according to his needs,
Which would help those who are hurting,
And gratify those with good deeds.

And so each of them all together,
Did their own thing,
They pooled all of their gold,
And shared from there on in.

No more poverty,
And no more wealth,
As happiness prevailed,
In the commonwealth.

And realizing all the many things,
That Sir Huey had done,
The kingdom’s aging heart,
Had finally been won.

But the good that there was,
Could not last forever,
For the evil in the Kingdom,
Was ominously clever.

That very night,
The King was sequestered,
And within an hour,
His head had been severed.

This night like no other,
The King in his bed,
From his feet to his neck,
The King is now dead!

Intrigue in the kingdom,
There’s danger in the Land,
Each man for his bother,
We must now take a stand.

The common folk, the people,
They have all been betrayed,
The King’s son, the bastard,
And the Crappers will soon have their way.

The tide has turned,
Things have gone astray,
Evil has overtaken the Land,
There’s no time to delay.

The people got together,
Figuring how to defend,
But there was no question,
Upon who they must depend.

Sir Huey was their leader,
The man they all knew well,
He’s the only one who would be able,
To wrestle the Crappers into Hell.

But it would be a struggle,
Far into the end,
For no one knew the difficulties,
They would have to contend.

The Crappers were a brutal bunch,
The did not want people to thrive,
They would strip off their skin,
And then eat them alive.

The first place to begin,
Twas no doubt clear,
They had to stop the Crappers,
Who they had learned to fear.

The Crappers said they wanted to help,
This kingdom by the sea,
When in fact all they cared about,
Was me, me, and me!

Blarney in the beans,
Humans in the hay,
The Crappers are crazy,
They never do what they say!

From Odin to Woden,
Kamin to Kire,
Whose got the guts to,
Stop their fire?

Their fire is hot,
It burns us to the bone,
They flame it on our skin,
As we moan and groan.

Their bombs burst in air,
With vivid shock and awe,
It produces agony,
Like that in Oberammergau.

Those with gold,
Many things they acquire,
They exchange this metal,
For cannons with fire.

They attacked those around them,
To weak to defend,
The poor and defenseless,
With no money to spend.

Those at the top with,
Gold on their mind,
Doing what they can,
To make our guts grind.

They’re not only rich,
But selfish as well,
They’ve even passed laws,
That’ll send us to Hell.

The Crappers are mean,
They have no sense of mind,
They are callous and heartless,
Brutal and unkind.

The men are monsters,
Rabid savage apes,
They attack women,
Taking pride in their rapes.

There is the soprano court,
A constitution replete with rules,
And sitting upon this tribunal,
Are sycophants known as fools.

They ruled that craporations,
Could give gold to the King,
Not only precious ideas,
But all kinds of things.

They passed laws equating,
Ideas with money and gold,
Enabling them to get away with,
Being way to bold.

That way,
When there were campaigns,
The King’s men always won,
While all the others remained bound in chains.

Instead of sharing their ideas,
With those who ran the Land,
They used their power to coerce,
Threatening to cut off other’s hands.

The simple people,
Never had a chance,
The greedy craporations,
Always wrapping it up in advance!

The people didn’t like it,
But that didn’t seem to matter,
Because they, the people, were looked upon,
As squalor in a world of chatter.

The Crappers built large craporations,
No taxes would they have to pay,
But the people who voted were upset,
Because they never had a say.

Poor men and poor women,
Have always had their place,
But those with the most gold,
Enjoyed placing their asses in their face.

The Crappers chose a slogan,
It represented what they believed,
You’d better be smart you’d better beware,
Because if you’re not you will be deceived!

Another epithet,
Summed up their creed,
From each according to his gullibility,
To each according to his greed……. (Henry Fairlie via Joseph Stack)
Angered and upset,
Arms upraised,
It was time to get tough,
Because the stakes had been raised.

It’s a wonder how money and ideas,
Have been equated,
But that’s the Crappers way of doing things,
How corruption has been created!

It grossly unfair,
And leads to ill feelings,
But that’s the whole purpose,
Of unethical dealings.

The Crappers have always,
Been terribly, terribly vain,
But that’s the reason,
They’ve been such a pain.

They’re greasy machines,
Nothing but things,
Foul mouthed creatures,
Condescending beings.

They poison everything,
Within reach,
Even though they blaspheme,
They continue to preach.

Peoples lives,
With daggers,
And knives.

Wondering why people,
Have such a fit,
They go around the kingdom,
Treating people like shit.

A plight has come upon us,
Its time to rebel,
We need to send those bastards….. the Crappers,
Straight to Hell!

They’ve been on our backs,
We’ve had it up to here,
It’s time we dig in our heels,
So we can persevere.

We’ve got to do something,
To stop these brutes,
Or they’ll force us into slavery,
And make us recruits.

Free speech is sacred,
The Crappers must not have their way,
If we allow them to take it from us,
We will never have our say.

Crappers are evil,
They ruin people’s lives,
They enter our homes,
And stab us with their knives.

The latest from the kingdom,
They tell us it’s the news,
But if you want to know the truth,
It’s what the King spews.

You see, the king doesn’t want,
Any of us to know the truth,
Propaganda’s the thing,
It’s good for our youth.

Go along with the crowd,
And do exactly as you’re told,
Believe everything you hear,
And you’ll be happy when you’re old.

But teachers shouted back,
That’s not the way,
Stand up for the truth,
Or our society will decay.

We will teach kids,
To question adults…. to cross-examine those in authority,
To understand that doing such a thing is standard practice,
It is an absolute priority!

Oh no, we must not allow argumentation and uncertainty in our schools,
For if we do that our kids will get upset,
So the king put an end to all of that and said,
We must never apologize to others for that will lead to sorrow and the teaching of regret.

But when society is teaching,
That it’s alright to kill,
Shouldn’t teachers tell their student’s,
About God’s Golden Rule?

Look I’m the King,
And you do as I say,
And if you don’t like it,
You can leave and go away!

Teachers were not at all pleased with the King’s response,
This ancient kingdom having turned into a non renaissance,
Teachers each and everyone so easily retired,
Or much more likely could even be fired.

Those without courage,
Went straight back to class,
But those who were more bold told the King,
To stick it straight up his ass!

In life it is important,
To do what is good,
To do what is right,
To do what we should.

But even though we do,
Pursue and follow though,
It’s important to realize,
That we just might get screwed.

One was hung on a cross,
Many others fired by a boss,
But one thing all have in common,
Is that there is always a loss.

In the meantime the King,
Traveled to schools,
Handing out rewards to,
To his frightened little fools.

But then there were those,
Who elected to stay,
Saying they would not,
Teach the King’s way.

Twas these men and women,
Who courageously disobeyed,
And as expected,
The King gave them “the blade!”

The guillotine rolled out,
Blade raised ready to drop,
Heads forced into place,
Prepared to be chopped.

Metal sliced through,
Each and every spinal cord,
So terribly egregious,
It could not be ignored.

Fell down,
And rolled around.

Blood and brains and cranial remains,
It was more than the people could take,
They were all angry, and vowed to rebel,
No longer in slumber, now wide awake!

They decided to fight back,
And they knew what to do,
They sought out Sir Huey,
Their trusted guru.

Sir Huey was much more,
Than a mere human being,
Much more than blood and flesh,
He was “the people’s” King.

Not only wise,
But a combatant as well,
And if you pissed him off,
It would be good bye and farewell.

We’ve got to do something,
Before it’s too late
Or it will be all over,
And that will be our fate.

The last I heard,
Huey had made many long crawls,
As there has been a quake,
In the village of Klun Falls.

Moving the sick,
On the back of his balls,
From the village to an infirmary,
Several miles from Klun Falls.

Word made its way to Sir Huey,
That there was not much time to spare,
That the Crappers were ready to attack,
That he needed to hurry in order to prepare.

The Crappers laid traps,
In what they believed would be Huey’s way,
Metal spikes that would,
Penetrate his balls, and therefore make them decay.

Then they tried to make it illegal,
They even passed a few laws,
Against a man or a woman,
To fight for any cause!

Sir Huey was wise,
He overtook castles,
Overpowering the King’s guards,
He subdued their vassholes.

In no time at all,
Sir Huey was on track,
Stalking the enemy,
Knocking them back.

Destroying their bridges,
Tearing up their roads,
Blowing up buildings,
Deciphering their codes.

Quieting their cannons,
Muffling their guns,
Shaming their shamans,
Destroying their funds.

The King and his cronies,
Were a tough bunch to fight,
Not all of them were stupid,
Some of them bright.

But the Craporations,
Soon found themselves out of luck,
The people rebelled,
And told them to get fucked!

By the time the day was over,
Craporations had gone broke,
And many of the C.E.O.’s,
Had died of heart stroke.

The war went on for seven long years,
Many died, but there were many more tears,
Sir Huey was captured and brought to his knees,
Tortured and brutalized, and sliced into threes.

When the war was over,
Sir Huey was released,
His body brutalized,
Rampaged and diseased.

But the man he once was,
The man who he became,
The man that he was to be,
A man of great acclaim.

So Sir Huey had no choice,
But to be his best,
The prize of perfection,
Had always been his quest.

He struggled and slaved,
Until he could hardly move,
Then he finally realized,
That he’d lost his groove.

And then a problem,
Something ruined the land,
The sweat of his balls,
Seemingly sullied their sand.

The odor was strong,
The people were peeved,
There were calls for Sir Huey,
To get up and leave.

There were many long trails,
Balls tangled in briars,
Many downed trees,
His balls burnt in fires.

His long bounding balls,
Trailed far behind,
Made far too much noise,
Often becoming intertwined.

No longer was it pleasant,
To see the man’s testicles,
Wounded bloody balls,
Numerous severed vesicles.

Sir Huey was in a bind,
His eyesight was becoming bad,
Could no longer see well,
Like when he was a lad.

Having eaten rather hardy,
In the years prior to eighty,
His balls became inflamed,
A bit over-weighty.

Then…… the sausage plant was ravaged,
Where the meat was mashed,
Sir Huey’s balls became ensnared,
And were eventually smashed.

As they rumbled and roared,
There were scores of traffic jams,
Dragging balls that eventually,
Broke the Kingdom’s water dams.

His testicles turned purple,
It seemed to be cancer,
But due to his knowledge in medicine,
He soon came up with an answer.

Wrecked by all the toils of time,
Fungi began eating holes in his flesh,
They were extremely painful,
And many of them were fresh.

The problem was clear,
His immune system had run down,
His days were no doubt numbered,
Some thought he had become a clown.

He did his best to work,
But could no longer stand,
His fingers had been injured,
He could labor with only one hand.

His mind was not as alert,
As when he was young,
He had been extremely smart,
And once had a clever tongue.

But now his mind was wandering,
Clever thinking in the past,
Winter snows were coming,
Days were passing fast.

Sir Huey knew what was wrong,
A man’s body lasts not so long,
One’s spirit is what is important,
For it is never gone.

But the frame cannot sustain itself,
It eats but bread and meat,
It keeps the body going,
Enables the heart to beat.

Huey tried one more time,
To do the best he could do.
He built a temple to God,
To prove that he was true.

But the kingdom had changed,
The people far too weak,
They began to look upon Huey,
As a fetid freak.

Few memories of the man,
And almost no remorse,
The people told Sir Huey
They wanted a divorce.

The summons was ordered,
Sir Huey brought to court,
The charges were read,
He was marched to the fort.

The jury read the verdict,
Sir Huey was unfit,
No longer deemed a citizen,
He had become illigit.

Of course, it was political,
For everyone to see,
But the King was in charge,
And that was his decree.

The next day the King’s crew,
Marched Huey to a cave,
Near a high mountain,
Meant to be his grave.

They whipped and beat him for hours on end,
Until his head bleeding had been fully bled,
Left on the floor of the cave to die,
All of them believing that Sir Huey was dead.

The cave was cold,
Taken over by a chill,
Alone and forgotten,
His body was still.

Dying on the ground,
His balls rubbed raw,
One day a child approached the clearing,
And blessed his balls.

Sir Huey Rose up,
With splendor and grace,
My goodness my child,
What a wonderful embrace.

The child stood back,
In wonder and awe,
I’d like to help you sir,
But you have no flaw.

Oh but I do,
You see I have long balls,
I can hardly walk,
I’ve had hard falls,

My knees are all bloody,
My head is a wreck,
My body is bleeding,
And I have no respect.

But old man,
I’ve been watching you for years,
I’ve witnessed your pain,
I’ve seen your many tears.

You’ve carried so many burdens,
Traveled so many miles,
Solved so many problems,
But always with smiles.

Its time for you to have peace,
For you to go home,
To no longer have to suffer,
To no longer have to roam.

So what is your wish,
What can I do for you,
Your wish is my command.
I will see you through.

Oh if you can,
And only if you would,
Make my balls shorter,
To be like they should.

One touch of his scrotum,
And his balls shrunk to size,
No longer would he have to walk.
With long balls dangling between his thighs.

A miracle to say the least,
For a man who never complained,
A gift from God,
For a man who lived in pain.

The world will never know,
Another like Sir Huey,
For Longballs’ longballs,
Rescued the world from its ennui.

Sir Huey went his own way,
And found another land,
He was a happy man indeed,
For he had served his fellow man!

G. Doug Soderstrom, Ph.D.

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The following comments are for "Sir Huey Longballs: A Fable"
by dougsoderstrom

With splendor and grace
Funny and with a moral. Reads like Mother Goose for grown ups. And posted on Dr. Seuss' centennial birthday!

( Posted by: toscano [Member] On: March 4, 2010 )

Thanks for the really nice comment...... Since the poem is so terribly long, you may well be the only human being to read it, unless I somehow get it published, etc., etc., etc., etc...........

Your friend......Doug!

( Posted by: dougsoderstrom [Member] On: March 6, 2010 )

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