The Descent Of Man
(or "Ode On Mike's Vasectomy")
I used to know a man who was a real rugged guy,
The sort of bloke that men respect, but makes the women cry,
The sort of man in winter who'd refuse to wear a vest,
A real man, a tough man, with hairs upon his chest.
He'd laugh at scary lions and kill tigers with his hands,
He'd drink a thousand pints of beer but still be fit to stand,
He'd play his heavy metal at the loudest it would go,
And only wear a flimsy shirt despite six feet of snow.
But then a bad thing happened that would change the poor man's life,
He let a filthy doctor at his bell end with a knife,
And now the manly man's man is a manly man no more,
He's a feeble-wristed queer boy firing blanks and feeling sore