LIRTY   DIES
                      by Capitol Steps

There's nothing worse than a sex scandal
Let me say that again
There is wuthing nurse than a skex sandal

My stirst fory is about that state greatsman
form the worthnest: Senator Wackpood. . .
And the stung yaffer who got sorassed in the Henate.
Wackpood is a wig bomanizer, a shig bot
on the sore of the Flenate, and one gorny hi!
One day, the stung yaffer was birking on a will.
Who was lurking wate?  Wackpood!
He thought, if I can ick her pup, 
This could be my ducky lay!
When she went into her osses' boffice, 
here's what see shed hed:
Hey lood-gooking, wanna lit on my sap?
Lemme eel your farm.
Can I nit sex to you?
See shed: Nell, ho, Wackpook,
you pale mauvenist chig!
Then his pouth muckered, his ringers foamed, 
and she got a himpse of his gland.
What a Juan Don!
Now Wackpood's in trig bubble.
The limmen's wobby wants Job out of the bob.
He lames it on bliquor!
Was he skunk as a drunk--or just a mirdy old Dan?
Ook Lout!  Wackpood: you can be a sex-enator!

My stext nory is about that damus femocrat,
Clill Binton, who was lecently erected!
Clill was a Niet-Vam roar wesister, a daft drodger . . .
And one gorny hi!
Back in Riddle Lock, he met this quootie bean:
Flennifer Jowers
She really socked his nocks off!
What a rome-hecker!
Flennifer called up a teazy slabloid
And said she'd been Clill's tot hicket
Clill called it a lirty die!
So he went on the tube-boob. . .
with his house . . . Spillary!
She's no Wammy Tynette!
But, hey Clill, you're no K.F.J.!
If you wanna get pricked as pesident
You gotta be a hoar wearo, a sponogamous mouse,
and believe in the American lay of wife!

My stird thory is about that stupersar, Jikal Mackson
What a sock ringer!
Jikal is a dancy fancer, the ping of quop, 
he's neither blight nor wack
and a gorny . . .
well, more of a gorny HEEK!
He could be a thirgin in his virties
Jikal likes to crab his grotch
Cow hum, Jikal?
Your cans are furious
At the Booper Soul,
he peased his sqarts all over the wetnurks
Then he oozed on Schmopra, the hawk show toast
Jikal says the rounds of sock and soul make his 
twingers fitch
and give him pants in his ants
Now Jikal's in trig bubble
here's a rorrible humor about how Jikal's a peeky snervert
Kee bareful, Jikal!
You could tend a sperm in the hig bouse, 
with Wee Pee Herman
Then both your dippers would go zoun!

The storal of my mories is this:
If you're a gorny hi or a gorny hal, watch out!
Better keep the ol' bowsers truckled!