When I was about six or so, I got hick'ry switched all the way from my neighbors yard into my house.
Abuse! I hollered (okay, not really, it was more like WAHHHH!) But you can bet nobody called DFACS.
I was switched because my buddies in crime, Bob and Meg, and I were in their grandmother's yard on their swing set singing to the top of our lungs.
Now, the song we sang, for us, was pure bathroom humor. If you recall, that is the top of the line funny for kids that age. I'm not sure why, but it is a standard truth. I bet kids one hundred years ago snickered about knickers and outhouses.
I certainly had no clue that it had sexual undertones, because, a: I didn't know sexual from bat and b: I had no idea what an undertone was.
It was apparent the parents knew the meaning to both words, hence the hick'ry switching.
Close your eyes and remember the tune that you always hear the Indian (from India) play on his flute, as he sits, legs crossed, and watches a basket in front of him. Slowly a cobra comes swaying out, all because of that hypnotic tune. Remember it?
Okay, to that tune, here are the words to the song we were singing lustily:
There's a dance in France
Where the women wear no pants
And the men go 'round
With their britches hanging down.
Now?
Now, it's just a fashion statement saying: Welcome to America! Our youth has lost it's minds and parents close their eyes!
Sigh.
I must be getting old.
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