TLC TUGGER

The first time I went searching I looked under a rock,
for that little ring of flesh belonging to my cock,
but all I found were pillbugs and slugs and grubs and ants,
perhaps I left my foreskin in my other pair of pants.

Sooooo to the basement I go, right to the laundry shoot
I check in all my pockets for that piece to my skinflute,
but all I found were matches and nickles, dimes and lint,
I sigh a moan of anger, “Where has my foreskin went?”

Is it in Milwalkee or swimming in the sea?
I miss my foreskin dearly. Where now can it be?
I ask my mom and father, “Is it locked up in the safe?”
They ask me, “Why?” and I reply, “It’s gone without a trace.”

“No,” they tell me, “Sadly, Son when you were born,
we told the doctors gladly, yes have his foreskin shorn.’”
Dios mio Jesus, it’s much worse than I feared.
You see the worst has occured, they had my foreskin sheared.

They both told me, “I’m sorry, our son we didn’t know.
We shouldn’t have discarded of your penis’ halo!”
“You thoughtless Ignorami! How could you be so dumb?
Because of your stupidity my penis head’s gone numb!”

Dad told me, “take some puddy and mold it ‘round the head.”
Mom asked if she could bake me one from ginger bread instead.
“No!,” I tell them firmly with anger in my voice.
“We’re sorry,” said my parents, “you should’ve had the choice.”

My stomach felt disgusted, blurred went my vision,
“twasn’t your decision for my circumcision.”
“Well we don’t know the answer. Why don’t you pray to Pan
or Jezus’ apostles or Muhummad who’s our friend?”

“Why don’t you go ask Santa!”
came a shout not far beyond
below my belt, guess who spoke?
My trusted skin baton!

“You’re right we clapped then shouted,
“To the mall! Right now! Let’s go!
to ask if Santa’s green thumb can make foreskin regrow!”

We hopped into the Auto,
sped down the busy lane,
high ho ho hopes that Santa’s magic can bring back what’s been slain!

So in the line of children we stood with hearts abeat,
finally it was my turn and I knelt by Santa’s feet.
“Santa, Santa, Buddy! My King! My Soul! My God!
Return the skin considered skin back onto my rod!”

He eyed me very kweerly.
He hithered to an elf.
He whispered something quietly then nodded to himself.

“What you ask is common.
I know you don’t feel whole.
You’ll get the crown that they knocked down that clung around your pole.
But are you sure my child that foreskin’s your desire?
Would you rather receive all the wealth of an empire?”

“No my dearest Santa, dickskin’s what I want.
Make it prefect fitting, not loose nor not too taut.”

“Aight you silly dreamer when you wake on Giftmas morn,
your foreskin will be waiting along with lots of porn.
So ring your family members and tell them, ‘I’ll be late.’
Cause all you’ll do this Giftmas is sit home and masturbate.”

And so on Giftmas evening, I told my penis that,
‘I think you’ll like our present. A permanent night cap.’
And soon I wuz a dreamin of how when I wake up,
I’ll finally be like all the men in Brazil and Europe.

At nine on Giftmas morning, I woke up with a start
and there I saw my member with that special other part!
‘Hurray! I love you Santa! Hurrah you understood
that all I really wanted was a snuggly penis hood!

I declare from this day forward, ‘I’ll never need another gift,
cause Santa gave me a friend I can always now play with.’
So if you are a cut man and want to reconnect,
next year just ask Santa for a penis turtleneck.

And when you wake that morning and feel between your crotch,
thank your best pal Santa that your dick’s no longer botched.
Three cheers for Mr. Kringle. Ten again for our bud Nick,
for he’s the master artist who repaired your broken prick.

Cause I want my foreskin for Giftmas,
Santa please use your craft
to bring back the skin I was born with
that they hacked off my shaft!”