Dedicated to Anita Bryant and the Joint-Chiefs of Staff
I went down for some Florida sun,
Nothin' in mind 'cept to have a little fun.
Standin' on the beach—it's a beautiful day—
Lookin' all around for a place to lay.
Got my lunch packed—in my knapsack—
That's the day I found out why
They call 'em "Sandwiches":
'Cause of the sand which is
In the sandwiches.
Well, I lay for an hour
Gettin' hotter and hotter;
I decided I'd rather take to the water.
I swam on out, not payin' any mind
When a floatin' log come up an'
Hit me from behind.
I started drinkin'!
Then, I started sinkin'!
I had the unpleasant feelin'
I was goin' down
For the third time!
Then the lifeguard did what lifeguard's do:
He pulled me out,
But I was turnin' blue—
There was so much water
Where the air should be
There was only one way
He was gonna' save me
So, he did it!
Tipped my head back;
Pulled my tongue out
And proceeded to resuscitate me—
Mouth to Mouth.
After two or three minutes
I was breathin' again.
I opened my eyes and said,
"Thank you, Friend!"
When up marched a crowd of men and women
Not lookin' like they were goin' swimmin'.
They yelled, "Faggots!
Dirty, filthy maggots!
You'll pay for this lascivious display!"
Turned out it was some kinda' crazy crusade
Had 'em all riled up; they were really afraid.
Then the Orange Juice Lady began to pray:
"The Lord wants you to screw in just one way—
Missionary fashion—sex, without passion—
"Thank God, he's done quick,
Dallas (Jerry Springer) is on tonight!"
As they took us away, they spied a young couple
Who were gettin' it on, real lithe and supple
She'd pulled up her skirt;
He'd pulled down his pants;
There was no need to guess,
You could tell at a glance
They were fornicating—there in the sand—
Everybody gave 'em a great big hand
For humping each other The American Way!
Well, we both escaped, no thanks to them.
Now I'm real careful where I swim!
But I hear that Anita's headin' out West—
(Or Orrin, or Jesse, or Newt)
[Insert the demagogue of your choice]
...Not gonna' give those gays a rest!
Now, I don't mean to be blatant,
But could she/he be latent?
I mean, who else would raise up such a fuss?
Not us, would we? Would we?
When these voyeuristic busybodies finally relent
And sex is no longer a political event,
I hope things have changed to this extent:
We respect the privacy of mutual consent.
©1977 Tim McMullen