Hello new friend, my name is Fred
the words you hear are in my head.
I say, I said my name is Fred,
and I’ve been… very naughty.
The story I’m about to tell,
I tell you, I will tell you well,
Is of my dear aunt Muriel,
and just how I’ve been… naughty.
Voila the farm. My aunt lives here,
with precious pup, and husband dear.
My heart beats fast as I drew near,
I feel so nice… and naughty.
I thought just how excited they,
must be that I would come today,
they’d shout “come Fred! huzzah! hooray!
Dear boy you look so… naughty.”
That’s when my tired eyes beheld,
a doggy dog, like dog, he smelled,
D-O-G, is what he spelled,
and that’s how I spell… naughty.
Alone was I, with tender Courage,
and all his fur, his furry furrage,
which, I say, did encourage,
me, to be… quite naughty.
Courage… your hair…
it reminds me of the first time I knew just how,
I felt, about hair.
It was a day, I’d not forget,
the day that I first met my pet,
oh what a lovely gift to get,
I’d never felt so… naughty.
My fuzzy friend, is what he was,
this darling little ball of fuzz,
And oh, such fuzz, such fuzz, it does,
demand, that I… be naughty.
He looked at me, his fetching eyes,
and fetching fur did hypnotize,
and filled with joy, and filled with sighs,
and that’s when I got… naughty.
Now, now… you shouldn’t play in the toilet
This dripping hair, this droopy curl,
unfold sweet memories of a girl,
whose tresses, oh, they’d twist and twirl,
and tempt me to be… naughty.
Barbara, my love was named,
and her fair hair, a mane untamed,
until one evening, I’m ashamed,
I got a little… naughty.
The look upon my young love’s face,
was sweet as lace,
but in this case,
I realized she… needed space.
I never more was naughty…
well… maybe not never.
Dear cur, your fur and fleece remind,
of nothing found in human kind,
but for one fellow who did find,
me, to be… in a certain mood.
Into my shop, he walked one day,
with bush above, and beard bouquet,
that’s no toupee I pray, no way,
I could help but be… you know.
I’d never seen such hair before,
his bangs they sang, his neck it beckoned,
eyebrows, armpits, all were reckoned,
soon I figured what the heck and,
guess how I was… naughty.
Sweet pooch, afraid I’ll shave your tail?
Why now, that would be weird!
So ends our little story.
But then my landlords did resume,
to free me from that porcelain tomb,
and ferry to a private room,
your hero, ever doughty.
Good-bye dear aunt, I’ll miss your farm,
and Eustace’s ebullient charm,
and farewell Courage, what’s the harm,
if I was slightly… naughty.