There was a guy named Larry,
who lived in Little Rock.
He liked to spend his afternoons
with both hands on his

Custom motorcycle-
that he kept full of gas.
He liked to ride to downtown bars
and take it up the

alleyways, real slowly,
and give a little grunt,
in hopes some lady of the night
just might give him some

competent directions,
to a place that doesn't ****.
A place where all the waitresses
are always down to

Fill your drinks more quickly,
and bring you extra bread.
Quick and super-friendly, and
prepared to give you

heavy, double portions,
and charm you with her wits.
When she leans across the table,
you really see her

Trying hard to please you,
and serve you as you dine.
If you're ordering a combo,
she'll suggest the 69!


(That's the beef with broccoli, you pervert.)