It's a-hangin way down and past the thigh roamin'
And past the thigh roamin'
May be mighty sore.
Something has dropped that ball loose
To drag on the floor.

It ills this man, as past the thigh it's roamin'
Past the thigh it's roamin'.
Ills him like he's goosed
That's why he cries as it's hangin',
That ball's hangin' loose.

He smiled back when they were level
(Now, what an angle!)
With eyes they were level.
(My, what an angle!)
With face they were level
(One's splayed at an angle!)
Now one is leaning and askew

That ball's loose,
That ball's loo-oo-oose
It's leaning and earthward it skews.

It's out of bounds and it's swellin' and sorey
How swellin' and sorey, and there's growin' pain.
And it is comin' to re-est
On a carpeted plane.

Today he drags it to the second story
And then tells his story to doc, who grabs skin
And does a nip and ro-oll
And tucks it back in.

He smiles 'cause again they're level
(No more weird angle!)
Although slightly beveled
(Affecting the dangle!)
But now when they swivel
(Together they jangle)
They meet and travel two by two.