It’s almost midnight – Friday night. Chrissy just went to bed about a half hour ago, and before she did she asked me not to be stupid tonight. In that ideal I boldly decided to write a smart, timely poem about trousers.

Perhaps it says a little about my state of mind. Perhaps my mind is in another state. Perhaps, it’s just about time we slap together a few lines about slacks!

As I reflect now, I feel the primary impetus behind my penning these words – was based on happy childhood recollections of misplacing my dungarees. Yes, that snappy little trait carried well into my teens, young adulthood, early thirties, puberty, and still today shortly before my 7th 39th birthday! Excuse me, please read below while I search out my bike shorts….

Lets talk about pants

You got short pants, long pants, gym pants and underpants
You got pajama pants, knee pants, new pants and old pants
Everywhere you look there’s another pair of pants
Except of course….on you

Yes you forgot your pants again this morning
You woke up to the alarm clocks warning
But you forgot it was today
That your rent you had to pay
So you left in such a rush
And you didn’t even brush
And you ran into the street no pants you’re wearing

Oh sure your closets and your drawers
Are stuffed with pants you’ve worn
On nearly every day until today

Nope you didn’t even look
Now you look like such a schnook
Thank God your magic Johnson’s tucked away