Little pieces on the thrill-slide, little pieces made of tushy-tisshy
Little pieces on the frill-hide, little pieces are a bane
There's some Charmin and some Northern and an eeewy Cottonelly one
And they're all there in the icky-cracky and they roll in to the ‘mane’

And the crappy paper-cheapness all stick to you in perversity
Where they drop out in boxers or the flame red lingerie
And they gather in drawers and cause sex embarrassment
When you’re all set for a quicky-snacky and forget to check the Haines

And they all stray on the moss-face and stick near bikini line
And they sprawl my itty cavern like a silly April fool
And the pillings end up rather damp and spread out so universally
Where they are quite a pox ‘cus when you pull ‘em yelp in pain

They’re deployed so, in my frizzness - I’m wary and phased and ranting-y
In box, yep, shape of Tazzy-mappy and in small nooks, that’s their game
Yeah, I seek one, ‘cus I’ve seen one, it’s a shrewd one and I bellow some
And they're all made out of tushy-tisshy; guess I should get a bidet