Fresh Butt Roasting On An Open Fire

Since yesterday's post with my keywords was such a rousing
success...I'm going to do another. Not today, though. I'm composing
a little song for a comrade. No, it's not Mabel, but she'll know what
I mean. It's for a buddy who declared yesterday that she would
rather roast her own a$ than do some such thing that had been
suggested. Oh, she didn't say she'd refuse to do it. She would do
it if so instructed. But she'd rather roast her own a$$. Which was
an expression I'd never heard before. I was mystified, since she
is every bit as hillbilly as I am. Now I must use that saying twenty
times a day. I like it. It's imagery is spellbinding.

Would you use a spit and turn your a$$ over an open flame? That
might be kind of hard to turn yourself, what with being up on that
spit, without any leverage to turn the crank.

Would you use a dark blue with white spots metal roasting pan?
I don't know about y'all, but my a$$ would not quite fit in one of
those roasters.

Would you use a stick over some hot coals, like when roasting
marshmallows? Methinks a roasted a$$, by any other name,
would not taste as sweet as a nice crusty black marshmallow.

Would you crouch on all fours, with foil booties on your ankles,
basting yourself with your own juices for 4 hours at 350? Perhaps
some of us would experience claustrophobia. But we would know
if the oven light stays on when the door is closed.

Anyhoo...I am immersed in the butt-roasting lore this evening, and
must share with you a song I have composed for my pal. OK, I
didn't actually compose it. I can't even play my guitar, even with
a brand new g-string, and in spite of my dream that Dolly Parton
worked part time in a hospital as an RN with me and Abby from
ER and taught us how to play guitar on our breaks. I really only
changed some of the words, but my buddy will know what I'm
talking about.


Fresh Butt Roasting On An Open Fire

Fresh butt roasting on an open fire
But not everybody knows
The expertise level of the teacher you hire--
Not as important as free throws.

Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe
Served together won't taste right.
Roasted butt tastes a little like crow...
Wake up, smell coffee, take a bite.

We know we must do things our way.
We did it without calculators in our day.
We worked with decimals, and even pi...
Memorized times tables--we didn't die!

So, I'm offering this simple task:
Kids, add one to ninety-two.
Although it's been said many times, do not ask...
No calculators for you.

So, I'm offering this simple task:
Kids, take one from ninety-two.
"What if I don't have enough fingers?" you ask.
Great Googley Moogley! Boo hoo!


Thank you, thank you. I will be performing in my car on the way
to work each morning. Tickets are available from all law enforcement
officers I will pass on the way.