The Dirtiest Man in the World

Oh I'm Dirty Dan, the world's dirtiest man,

I never have taken a shower.

I can't see my shirt—it's so covered with dirt,

And my ears have enough to grow flowers.

But the water is either a little too hot,

Or else it's a little too cold.

I'm musty and dusty and patchy and scratchy

And mangy and covered with mold.

But the water is always a little too hot,

Or else it's a little too cold.

I live in a pen with five hogs and a hen

And three squizzly lizards who creep in

My bed, and they itch as I squirm, and I twitch

In the cruddy old sheets that I sleep in.

If you looked down my throat with a flashlight, you'd note

That my insides are coated with rust.

I creak when I walk and I squeak when I talk,

And each time I sneeze I blow dust.

The thought of a towel and some soap makes me howl,

And when people have something to tell me

They don't come and tell it—they stand back and yell it.

I think they're afraid they might smell me.

The bedbugs that leap on me sing me to sleep,

And the garbage flies buzz me awake.

They're the best friends I've  found and I fear they might drown

So I never go too near a lake.

Each evening at nine I sit down to dine

With the termites who live in my chair,

And I joke with the bats and have intimate chats

With the cooties who crawl through my hair.

I'd brighten my life if I just found a wife,

But I fear that that never will be

Until I can find a girl, gentle and kind,

With a beautiful face and a sensitive mind,

Who sparkles and twinkles and glistens and shines—