My Unicorn Song
This Unicorn Song is like many you've heard,
Except that I wrote it myself.
It has magical forests and sweet-singing birds,
And maybe a virginal elf.
Now, the fifth and sixth lines never sound very good,
For the forest is threatened by men,
But the E.P.A. looks out for Unicorn woods,
So it all ends up happy again.
The Unicorn Song is a folklore tradition
That goes back for many a year,
With a syrupy style that I wouldn't wish on
The makers of Three-Two Lite beer.
There's quaint reminiscence of childhood days,
And the magic that dwells in the heart,
And a truckload of similar hoary clichés
That aren't worth a Unicorn's fart.
On a Midsummer night, when the moon shines above,
He'll appear with such beauty and grace
That a maiden will sigh, and forsake human love
For a horse with a horn on his face.
He'll lie down and settle his head in her lap
With his hard gleaming horn on her thigh --
If I were to try that, I'd prob'ly get slapped,
And the chance of arrest would be high.
Now, would any of you women give up your fellas
For an equine with burrs, ticks, and fleas?
And the horn's healing properties seem suited well as
A treatment for social disease.
If she's not a virgin, then she is ignored,
From experienced girls they abstain.
The Unicorn uses her once, then gets bored,
Casanova with hooves and a mane.
So listen, young women -- your virtue is pure
If you love by your own heart's advice,
If a Unicorn shows up at your door, be sure
That you're willing to tender the price.
And perhaps the mass media soon will make clear
That the Unicorn's days are now rare,
So, who knows? The next Unicorn Song that you hear
May be sung by Bette Midler and Cher.