I let a man touch my balls today
I didn’t know exactly what to say
It has been a long time since one did that, you see,
At the Army induction center in 1963
I meekly followed his instruction
Just as I did at the induction
It was hard not to do so
I just wanted him to let go
When he cradled my testicles so tightly
“Cough,” he said, smiling so lightly,
Ah, thought I, this will pass
Then he stuck his finger up my ass
Probing hither and yon
He appeared to be having so much fun
"Take it easy, doc," I said, "I’m an old man
And right now, not much of a fan"
He grinned and replied, "I do this daily
Now I’ll peek up your shillelagh"
What he was looking for I’ll never know
I pulled up my pants and started to go
"Come back," he urged, "we’re not through"
"Oh, yes, we are—I’m leaving you"
He smiled again, though in disappointment,
"See you soon at your next appointment!"
Barney Oldfield, like his illustrious ancestor, was an active sportsman, poet, and bon vivant. He lives in sunny Florida and is retired. Almost eighty, he spends his time reading weird literature, composing sonnets to lost loves, and generally making a neighborhood nuisance of himself. Today, he was inspired to write this little ode because of a visit to the urologist. Having discovered Bullshit Lit, Barney promises to make numerous contributions to such a worthy project—one that appreciates his absolute lack of literary talent.