Just outside of Johnson City on a dark and twisting road,
In a Kenworth 18-wheeler, with a heavy, shifting load,
He was pushing through to Binghamton, though the hour was getting late,
Pfizer's finest on a mission, to the pharmacies upstate,
He was on a holy mission, there were men who couldn't wait,
For his thirty thousand pounds of Viagra.
He'd clocked seven hundred miles, since he climbed into the rig,
Just another twenty-five or so, would finish up that gig,
But the trailer hit an oil slick, and down the hill did fly (Oh, my!),
'til it landed at the bottom, in the town's water supply,
It was instant rigor mortis, what a hard way to die!
Save your sons, shield your daughters,
There's Viagra . . . . . . . , in the water.
All over Johnson City people rising with the dawn,
They drank their morning coffee, took their showers, watered lawns,
And who could have predicted all the changes up ahead?,
Men were getting up for work and heading back to bed,
So many called in sick you would have thought a virus spread.
Down at the courthouse coffee shop, some stared in disbelief,
As a pack of thirsty lawyers started filling out their briefs,
But at the local college young men appeared much smarter,
No chromosomal mystery, they simply studied harder,
Now water on the rocks is the latest party starter.
The Johnson City firemen, cursed their wretched luck,
They could not get their fire hoses wound back on the truck,
Sprinkling holy water at a funeral Father Ryan said,
"I know I've saved their souls but I've never raised the dead.,
Would a couple of strong men help me close the casket lid?"
Old man Weisberg took the shower of his life,
Then he marched into the kitchen and he called out to his wife,
She knew something was up as he stood naked at the table,
Holding two cups of coffee and half a dozen bagels,
It had been at least a decade since the last time he was able.
Believers seeking miracles, the pilgrims came in hordes,
The waters of Viagra grew more popular than Lourdes,
The clergy quoted scripture but they found it hard to sell,
Those who chose to be anointed were pointed straight to hell,
Despite the dire warnings, the crowds began to swell.
Some hardened politicians, came into town one day,
With their permits and their pipelines, pumped the waters all away,
From the heart of Johnson City rose the mournful cry of men,
But the women knew another truck was coming through again,
Dont worry there's a truck next week, we'll spread the oil again.
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