I have a nasty little itch in a particular niche
You might not want to watch
I'm going to rip out my crotch
But when you find you have got that special feminine rot
You'll do anything to make it go away
I've been considering a hairbrush
Considering a knife
If it won't go away don't want to go on with life
In all complete candor a small belt sander
Might just about do it
You'd have to sand right through it
I've been thinking that embalming
Might somehow be more calming
A chemical that surpa**es lethal mustard gases
To k** the little beast
In its fungal little feast
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