I don’t wipe when I poo so with dried number two I am crusted.
I never shampoo so I’m dandruff-draped, too, yes, I’m crusted.
People take a dim view when the food that I chew
on my chin does accrue and when vomit I spew
remains where it flew ’til it dries there like glue and I’m crusted.

Snot drips from my nose -- I don’t bother with blows, so I’m crusted.
I leak from my hose and have jam ’twixt my toes, yes, I’m crusted.
I don’t smell like a rose, more like trash, I suppose.
Many people propose that I bathe but, Lord knows ,
that’s a plan I oppose. Tho’ it garners me foes I’ll stay crusted

A woman I wooed, when she ogled me nude cried “You’re crusted!”
It ruined the mood -- from her bed I was shoed ’cause I’m crusted.
People claim that I’m crude, have a bad attitude
but I think they’re just rude and I shall, tho’ I’m booed,
with spittle-dewed food and the crud I exude stay crusted.

Yeah, I’m crusted.
Folk’s’re disgusted
I’m stayin crusted
[fade]