They are shorn of their junk,
voices high and it’s “bye-bye” to spunk.
They won’t peer at the queen’s throne.
They can’t diddle; they’re
doomed…lack a chode.

No go up; hunk been hacked;
missing something hangs ’neath kiester crack.
Bone been hewed, need no clothes; naught to show—
dudes lack a chode!

They can’t moan in the throes with June or with Joan.
Bone been hewed, need no robes—
dudes lack a chode.

Gotta be on the job,
guard the queen, whom they won’t want to love.
She gets horny, loses control—
can’t up shack ’cause
dudes lack a chode.

They can’t moan in the throes with June or with Joan
Bone been hewed, seed no sown—
dudes lack a chode.

Mohels cry in fright: “That’s insane!
Just the tip—even that causes pain!!”
Jester clown puts on a show
irks the king—dude’s hacked of chode.

Off the throne falls the king—his sack and his bone
hit the blade of a sword honed. . .
ruler lacks chode.