That old back scratcher has me in its spell,
That old back scratcher like
the Chinese sell.
Your plastic fingers up and down my spine,
The same old
itchcraft when your touch meets mine.
You tame that tingle when I'm all
alone;
For I am single, so, to itch his own.
So down and down you go,
Around and around and around you
go;
Scratching my unreachable zone.
I should throw you away,
But I never do;
I must give in to itchy
skin.
A skin with such a burning desire;
When I'm scratching low,
The
itching gets higher.
Oh, you're the scrubber that placated me,
That chased each place that
irritated me;
And then, last night, you broke my heart.
Because I sat down
on you,
Two hundred pounds on you,
Then, snap, crack,
Everything just
went black
My wonderful old back scratcher fell apart.
Yes, you broke in half,
And now you're too short;
I tried Scotch tape
as a last resort.
But with Scotch tape it wasn't the same;
The thrill that
was wild is suddenly tame.
But, Old Man Sorrow will not get me down;
I leave tomorrow night for
Chinatown.
For I must follow Heaven's plan:
Around and around I'll
go,
Through Chinatown I'll go,
Hoping to find another one just like
you,
An old Chinese back scratcher made in Japan!
Return to "My Son, The Box" -- The Allan Sherman CD Box Set
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