HarthPoetry

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The Dirty Man

That’s all he was,

just a dirty man.

 

Dirty thoughts,

in his dirty jeans.

 

He had a dirty smile

and a dirty mind.

 

That’s all he was,

just a dirty man.

 

A charming fellow down South,

not an erect pole up North.

 

A smart fellow who never went down,

not even for a straight upside-down frown.

 

That’s all he was,

just a dirty man.

 

He played in the tub,

and he double-dosed the twos.

 

He played in the sand box,

and he ate out the hot fox.

 

That’s all he was,

just a dirty man.

 

Dirty sheets,

and dirty knees.

 

Dirty tongue,

and dirty hands.

 

That’s all he was,

just a dirty man.

 

A charming tropical lad at last,

not a white ghost from the past.

 

A smart lad who never got laid,

not even from a pretend to be maid.

 

That’s all he was,

just a dirty man.

 

 

© 2004 David Greg Harth

04.01.09.24:39:00@3302MIAMI