Pottymouth Lew

I wrote this epic folk ballad when my sister told me about her husband's experience with general anesthesia. It made me laugh. You can read her account of it here, on her blog.

And now - the tale of Pottymouth Lew.

Clean-Cut Lew was a nice young man,

Never made no trouble for anyone.

He paid his taxes and said his prayers,

And never said a rude word anywhere.

Clean-Cut Lew.

(Clean-Cut Lew)

Well poor old Lew, he had a pain

Whenever he ate too much salt and grain.

So his wife took him in for the doc to see

If he could fix him up – preferably for free.

Clean-Cut Lew.

(Clean-Cut Lew)

Now, this nice young man with the clean-cut face

Had to be put under in a medical place

So the doc could see what was making him sick.

They put him to sleep with a needle prick.

Clean-Cut Lew.

(Clean-Cut Lew)

But when he came around, to his wife’s surprise

He was cussin’ and swearin’ like those sailor guys.

All the stuff he’d been keepin’ pent up in his head,

All those things he never once had said.

Clean-Cut Lew.

(Clean-Cut Lew)

Those words came a-bubblin’ and racing right out

At a volume not unlike a Viking shout.

And Clean-Cut Lew was no more.

Pottymouth Lew took the floor.

Pottymouth Lew.

(Pottymouth Lew)

Lest your minds be troubled, I’ll tell you the rest.

The doc solved the problem and made Lew his best.

His heartburn ain’t gonna bug him no more,

But now that it’s open, he can’t shut the door

On Pottymouth Lew.

(Pottymouth Lew)

From now on, no matter what he do,

His family will call him Old Pottymouth Lew.

That image just can’t be shook from their heads.

Clean-Cut Lew, cussing loud from his bed.

Pottymouth Lew.

(Pottymouth Lew)

And that’s the tale of…

Pottymouth Lew