It's nine o'clock on a Saturday;
I've ingested buckets of gin.
Ain't been to men's room since 5:03--
No output, but a lot goin' in.

I'm quite drunk, but I've still got my memory
In which there's an image of flows,
Then I make a retreat; no time to lift the seat--
It pours from the hole in my clothes.

Ahh……………….

Spring from my dong; I'm pee-ample man,
Spring from my schlong. . .fill a bight.
In a mood for micturition flowin' free--
"Pisso mojado" sign's in sight.

The john of the bar's where I'm spendin' time;
The drinks entered now exit me,
And I'll soon need a boat that will help me to float
Off on this sallow and saline sea.

The room's fillin'; I went on a swillin' spree,
And vials of once-beer surge toward my face.
I'd sooner be harnessed to a schooner's spar--
I'm dang'rously close to a taste.

Ahh……………….

Spring from my dong; I'm pee-ample man,
Spring from my schlong. . .fill a bight.
Now I brood for micturition flowin' free--
Might pass, ahogado,* tonight.

Now, H. Melville was a great novelist
Who wrote of a whale that was white.
He never met Jones, Davy; these whitecaps are wavy--
I might see the locker tonight.

I waited too long for a paltry piss,
And it's getting too late to atone.
I don't know how I'll get out of this mess--
I'd locked the door for whizzin' alone .

Aid……………….!

Sing Mayday song, I screech, alto-man,
Sing, but no one hears my plight.
Now I brood for micturition flowin' free--
I'm pissed, though I should feel contrite.

Pressure breaks the door down, outpour saturates
Every patron, man, woman, and child.
So the moral, you see, is to frequently pee
And not save it up for a long while.

The long corridor now looks like a canal
A yell: "Get the lifeboats into here."
It came from an old tar who got wet at the bar
And realized that it wasn't beer.

Arrrrrr………………!

Sink did I not, though pee-ample man,
Sink did I not tonight.
We all float down the street on a yellow stream
And surge seaward past the red light


*drowned