Chorus:
Two thighs, both alike in girth and sheen In fair España, where we lay our scene From carnal instinct now two hands unclean Where public self-service can’t be unseen.
From forth the nasty loins of that sick troll A girl running maintains self-control. Her shorty shorts ‘roused sexual offense In broad daylight, by that park fence.
Chorus exits.
So that dear friends, is what went down A few days ago as I ran ’round. I did not give him much a chance Running all the faster to evade his glance.
Spat up by the wood that betrayed me so, I thought back on the event, brow furrowed. Back in the States I’d call the cops; But here in Spain ’twas a lost cause.
So that mongrel got away scott free, Exposing himself ‘neath the pine trees. And I’ll never again wear my short shorts Of flexi-spandex among perverts.
DISCLAIMER: Spain, I still love you. And I’ve since worn my shorts. Because it’s hot as sin and now I carry homemade pepper spray