How about them pussy grabbers
Ain't no wussies
Gettin around just
Grabbin they pussies
Grabbin them young
uns
Grabbin them old
Grabbin lotsa pussies
Takin they hold
Them Presidential pussy grabbers
Walkin down the street
Walkin down the street
Chompin they tic tacs til
They breath smell
sweet
Sayin they
TV stars
Really nothin to it
Walkin up to wimmens
Always let em do it
How to be a
pussy-grabber?
Wanna take a
stab?
Find yourself a
pussy
Say 'I'm President!' &
grab!
Note: It occurred to me recently that our current President, who may well destroy satire along with the rest of the world, had walked himself right into a Mason Williams 'Them' Poem. Williams, best known for his song Classical Gas, is a multi-talented musician, writer, and stand up comic. He was head writer on The Smothers Brothers comedy show, where he conceived the Pat Paulson for President campaign (which seems prescient now), and gave Steve Martin his first break as a writer. He wrote poems and suchlike, and in 1969 published The Mason Williams Reading Matter, which included a section called 'Them Poems', which all began with 'them'. The most famous was Them Tummy Gummers, which I think became a song, but my favourite was the shortest of them Them poems: Them Hors d'oeuvres (pronounced whores doovers), which I have repeated at countless receptions and parties over the decades. I reprint it below. If I stole Mason Williams' Trumpian thunder in any way, I apologise.
from Them Poems
LII
Them Hors d'oeuvres
How about Them Hors d'oeuvres, Ain't they sweet? Little piece a cheese, Little piece a meat.
Indeed, 6 of Them Poems, including Them Hors d'oeuvres, were put to music and sung by the Kingston Trio
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