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Oh many-striped and sweet-natured Lucy
The kind little girl everyone’s so glad
To meet on Sundays with your paisley collar
And broad smile
Why do you lick your butt
While on Mommy’s pillow?
Oh my sensitive girl
You jump in fright at the pop of a bag
Of potato chips
A ‘hood, you have not lived
But shot you were and not so long ago
Now you are a happy suburbanite,
But why, Lucy
Why do you lick your butt on thee?
What’s worse, why do you lick your butt on me!
Ramblings of a Medicated Lady: Words of Woe by Loria Taylor 
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