Hey There, Vagina
Hey there, Vagina! In my teens I spent my wages
Buying dirty mags with photos of you on those sticky pages,
While others were magnificently bushed
On the tush.
Hey there, Vagina! To my mates I lied with laughter
Well enough to win a BAFTA about all the girls I’d shafted;
There was Jean
And Jill and Jacqueline and Josephine
(I was 14).
Oh, what you do to me! The lure of your anatomy!
Oh, what you do to me you’ve done since my puberty
What you do to me.
Hey there, Vagina, you’re so perfumed, pink and pretty
But you need to point out to me that there thing they call a clitty.
I couldn’t point it out for twenty quid
And where it’s hid.
Hey there, Vagina, please forgive my lame excusing
But your geography’s confusing I get lost when I’ve been boozing;
All these bits!
I know their name; the problem for me it’s
Where stuff fits.
Oh it’s what you do to me. Oh it’s what you do to me
Oh it’s what you do to me. (These are just tautologies
From Plain White T’s.)
I’d really like to think I am a liberated, modern man
(I often pick my socks up off the floor)
When Tottenham lost I swear I wept, I know where our Bex Bissell’s kept
I’ve thrown my dirty books out of the drawer;
This provenance and history though pales before the mystery
Of those confusing flaps and folds of skin;
Where to begin?
Hey there, Vagina; she knows I love and adore her
With her labia majora and her labia minora
And clitoris which one girlfriend had not
No longer got.
Hey there, Vagina, all these terms I’ve learned to say ‘em,
Like the vulva, perineum, to the girls before I lay ‘em;
But it’s true
I cannot tell the difference on their flue;
I’ve not a clue.
Oh, what you do to me is all gynaecology
Oh, it’s all just Greek to me, this gynaecology