(by John Connolly)

One fine Monday morn as I sat at my desk
In the old public library down in the square,
In came an old woman all heavily laden
With all sorts of groceries costly and rare.

"And what can I do for to help and assist you?"
Says I unto her with a nod and a smile.
"It's a book that I'm wanting," says she "for I hear
You've the finest selection in many's the mile!"

"Let me guess, then" says I, "as to what you'll be needing
To suit a fine lady as such as yourself.
And what would compare with a romantic novel?"
And quickly I reaches one down from the shelf.

"Now here's a fine tale of a handsome brain surgeon
Whose spirits are low and his mind's in a rage
'til his troubles are eased by a fair pretty maiden
And the wedding bells chime on the very last page!"

"That's not what I'm wanting at all," says the lady.
"In truth for to tell you the book's not for me,
But it was me husband who sent me to see
If you have in this place any pornography!"

"If it's pornography that you're wanting," says I,
"Well, you've found the right place as you'll very soon see,
For under me counter I have a fine stock
Of the dirtiest books in this whole country!"

"Lady Chatterley's Lover, Last Exit in Brooklyn,
The Old Perfumed Garden and Carnal Desire,
And every volume is bound with asbestos
For fear your hot breath sets the pages on fire!

"We've got Swedish au pair girls all dressed up in rubber
And handsome transvestites both gallant and gay,
And every perversion that's known unto man
And it's all on the rates; there's no money to pay!"

"Oh, I think there must be some mistake," says the lady.
"'cause that's not the stuff that I'm wanting, indeed,
For my husband's a pawnbroker and not a sex fiend,
And I am sure it's not this that he's wanting to read.

"Well, he heard about pawn-ography from a friend,
And I fear that some comical error he's made,
For hearing the word and not knowing the meaning,
He thought it was something to do with his trade!"

The old pawnbroker's wife she was highly amused
When with rage I began for to stamp and to swear,
So I picked up a copy of Portnoy's Complaint
And I told her to stuff it the-devil-knows-where.

But out of adversity comes opportunity--
So the old prophets and sages do say--
And the Pawnbroker's tale, well it caused great amusement
When told to me colleagues the very next day;

And, being well known as a writer of songs
That are written on broadsheets and lavatory walls,
I went back to my house and I wrote down this song
And I called it the Tale of the Man with Three Balls! 

recording: John Leonard & John Squire [YouTube]