For the Ladies Songtext

von Bruce McCulloch

You know, I hear a lot of people talking about sex. And they have all these fancy new names for it, like "banging" or "screwing". But me, maybe I'm old-fashioned, but when I have sex with a chosen lady, I call it by it's rightful name: "the making of love".
And, for me, it's always a beautiful and moving experience indeed. Unless it takes place in an outhouse, which is quite rare and regrettable, I know.
But I always begin by removing my shoes [and] my socks, and gently rubbing my partner's hands and her ears, and then I stick it inside! But not without first, you know, getting her to fill out the release form. But, folks, sometime's we're just so horndogged up that the questionnaire seems to take forever.
Question 1: What would you like to talk about while we make of the love? Rape fantasies about Christ are quite popular this season. Or may I offer a pseudo-sexual scenario? Why don't we imagine me with a touring rock band, and we're in town for only one night. Oh, my god, how dangerous. But I'm not in the band. I'm a roadie. I'm the guy who was adjusting the mic and now I'm adjusting you. Well, not adjusting you; tour bus banging you. You're getting it from the roadie, while in the next room your best friend's getting it on with the really cute guitarist and you're with the beer-gut-daddy roadie [ 'cause you're not good enough].
I know what the ladies like.
And if she didn't twig to this sort of specific thing, then I'd do it my own way, which, as you know, is very gentle and very loving: I stick it inside! And then I'd get my mom on the speakerphone. And I'll say "Hi, mom." And she'll say "Oh, no. Not again. Are you inside some lovely lady?" And then I'll say "Yep, you know me, mom." And she'll say "No. Not really." And then we'll laugh, but not too long. 'Cause you don't want your dink to do the noodle. Ladies hate that. I found out that the hard way. Then, with my mom on the speakerphone, I'll say "Hey, team. It's time."
Now, folks, this is kind of an odd point. Because all of my making of love is about pleasing the ladies. But for the important moment, I get kind of mean and serious and I say "Shut up, shut up, shut up! You've got what I need!" And then I make a face like The Tazmanian Devil. And then I stare into a picture of myself from my Grade 9 grad and I stare into my 14-year-old eyes and I say "This is for you, Bruce! This is what you never had!" And then I lovingly [unfurl].
Well, the job isn't over yet. Why? I hang up on my mom, I take a velvet cloth, and I wipe the lady's cooter, then I turn the TV back on.
Wow. Good as new.