A portly man in Portland, Maine
Once asked for me for my name.
“I’m Inbred Fred,” I duly said,
Then asked him for the same.
“I’m Clayton Hennessey from Dayton, Tennessee,”
He told me with a grin.
“Don’t ask where I’m going—there’s no way of knowing.
“I can’t even say where I’ve been.”
“Well, howdy there Mister,” I gushed like a blister.
“I surely am glad to have met ya.
“But people are waiting, so I must be skating—
“Don’t worry though: I won’t forget ya.”
“Now hold on there Freddy!” he barked in his teddy—
The lingerie stretched ’round his gut.
“I may not be dressed yet, but I must protest at
“An exit that comes so abrupt.”
“Sir, I assure you,” I assured him, and more. “You
“Must not take offense at my leaving.
“It’s just that my calendar’s strained like a colander—
“I’m tied up from morning till evening!”
“Now calm yourself, son,” he soothed as I spun
On my heel toward my destination.
“I’ll stop all this prattle and let you skedaddle
“If you’ll clarify one implication.”
“I’ll do what I can sir,” I promised the man-whore
To answer his cryptic request.
Unwrapping a cheddar stick, he cried, “Tell me, Frederick,”
“Why is your name thus expressed?”
I blushed at his question but planned my confession,
Then squeaked with a high-pitched inflection:
“When granny’s your mother and daddy’s your brother,
“It’s quite a straightforward selection!”
Clayton seemed shocked by my statement, just rocked
To the point where he started to sweat.
But shaking it off, he gave a slight cough
And said something I’ll never forget.
“Since I was a youth, I have known but one truth,
“Which I hold despite those who would damn me.
“To quote the good vicar: Can’t keep it in your knickers?
“Well, at least keep it in the family!”