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Click hereAs Mother warbled for her Lord
In Kansas' heat and dust,
The farmers scarcely heard a word.
They worshiped Mama's bust,
Resplendent. Heaving mammaries
Formed every sacred phrase.
I smugly plunked piano keys.
You see, those were the days
Of "tourist courts." We had to share
One cabin, cinder block,
Cold water shower, incest's lair.
"Oooh, let me suck your cock
Before I sing, Cum, Son, and sanctify
My voice," she'd croon. Of course, I would comply.