Large Fierce Mammal

Hand Boromir. Hand. And that’s why you’re a Porcupine

You’ll be happy to know I have a tune worked out for this and will record it for your delectation in the near future. Now all I need is a ukulele player. As usual, anyone from among my talented population of fans is welcome to tackle it themselves and send it in for publication.

You’ve Got to Keep Your Workin’ Hand Clean

By LFM

This world is full of dangers
And it holds no care for you,
If you lead a life of plenty
Or you never make it through,
When trouble looms o’er where you sit
And shit is going down,
This habit will be helpful
Any night upon the town.

— Chorus —
You’ve got to keep your workin’ hand clean,
You’ve got to always know where it’s been,
Be careful with those chicken wings
And corn upon the cob,
Because ten greasy fingers
Just will never do the job.
You’ve got to keep your workin’ hand clean,
You’ve got to keep your workin’ hand clean!

There’s time and place to soil both hands,
But never dining out,
Where any task demanding grip
You’ll lubricate with doubt.
It’s OK to hold the saucy bits,
But only in one hand,
The other acts as surety
The shitfires go unfanned.

— Chorus —
You’ve got to keep your workin’ hand clean,
You’ve got to always know where it’s been,
Be careful with those chicken wings
And corn upon the cob,
Because ten greasy fingers
Just will never do the job.
You’ve got to keep your workin’ hand clean,
You’ve got to keep your workin’ hand clean!

Tom tucked into some beef au jus
While dating with his girl,
And helping her to shoo a fly
Gave her a greasy curl!
The powder room now beckoned
To repair the fouled lock,
In attempt to help her from her seat
Poor Tom au jus’d her frock.

— Chorus —
He didn’t keep his workin’ hand clean,
He didn’t always know where it’s been,
It bodes well to find a woman
Likes her meat straight off the bone,
But keep six digits clean
Unless you like your sex alone.
I think you know what I mean,
You’ve got to keep your workin’ hand clean!

Gangster Joe enjoyed himself
A plate of pasta on the town,
With gobs of garlic buttered bread
To help it all go down.
The night the competition came
A bustin’ through the door,
Joe’s gun squished through his fingers
And kept squishing ‘cross the floor.

— Chorus —
He didn’t keep his workin’ hand clean,
You’ve got to always know where it’s been,
To lubricate your pistol
Is the proper thing to do,
But don’t forget it’s not the one
That’s grown attached to you.
I think you know what I mean,
You’ve got to keep your workin’ hand clean!

Joe thought running out the back
Would be an easy job,
But found out when he got there
That he couldn’t turn the knob!
And that was where they found him,
Where he had to make his stand,
Dead beneath the latch
He couldn’t work with either hand!

— Chorus —
He didn’t keep his workin’ hand clean,
You’ve got to always know where it’s been,
Joe found out the hard way
That you can’t evade the Mob
When everything you do
Is only polishing the knob.
You’ve got to keep your workin’ hand clean,
He didn’t keep his workin’ hand clean!

So don’t you be like Tom or Joe
And keep one hand pristine,
Prepared to stroke a lady’s cheek
Or dish a dose of mean.
To come to grips with trouble
Will demand a solid grip,
So if trouble ever buds
Your pruning hand can do the nip.

— Chorus —
You’ve got to keep your workin’ hand clean,
You’ve got to always know where it’s been,
Be careful with those chicken wings
And corn upon the cob,
Because ten greasy fingers
Just will never do the job.
You’ve got to keep your workin’ hand clean,
You’d better keep your workin’ hand clean!