[organ solo with throbbing bass ostinato]

I have spied some porn,
Mine eyes have spied porn.
It’s porn that I do scorn;
It makes me so forlorn.
A nude man who hoists no bone,
Still, his man thing is shown!
“Fie!” I cry to porn.

I get ill when it is shown—
Bash brains of painters with a stone!
You must do what I say:
Burn it all today!
If it should catch a child’s eye,
It might make that child lie,
Kill, or run from home.
(I have been to Rome. . .
Porn on Sistine’s dome!!!) Yes!

[guitar interlewd]

Girls in the buff, also lads;
“Nat. GeoGRAPHIC” so bad!
It might make your hand. . .
Thus it must be banned.
If you are virtue’s friend
Put it all to an end
. . .travel to your gland. No!

[piano interlewd]

I have spied some porn,
Mine eyes cry: "It's porn!"
It’s porn that we must scorn
From the day we are born.
Die, you porn dawgs who have shown
Words like those in Jim’s/Hank’s/Dave’s/Terr’s[1]. . .tome.
Die, those who write porn!

I have spied some porn,
I am so forlorn,
Writers ply the porn,
Eyes are scored by porn,
Eyes above, be warned:
Guy applied some porn.[2]
Die, all who make porn!
I have spied some porn,
Writhing, I, from porn,
Dying[3] from the porn.


[1]James Joyce, “Ulysses”; Henry Miller, “Tropic of Cancer”; D.H. Lawrence, “Lady Chatterley’s Lover,” Terry Southern, “Candy,” all banned at one time
[2]Michelangelo
[3]“The Little Death” (la petite mort), French metaphor for orgasm