Don't Worry; Bend Over

Here's a little song I wrote.
I'll sing it while I search your tote:
Don't worry; bend over.
We have some Constitution trouble.
Don't you fret, we'll make it double.
Don't worry; bend over.

Somebody wants to make us dead,
And fill us full of witless dread.
Don't worry; bend over.
Our policies are quite pragmatic.
Just step into the Porn-O-matic.
Don't worry; bend over.

Before you pass that airline gate,
You first must irradiate.
Don't worry; bend over.
Won't birth no kids, no screaming brats.
You better raise yourself some cats.
Don't worry; bend over.

I've got my plunger and my gloves;
Vaseline helps me show the love.
Don't worry; bend over.
Janet said that I must grope,
But turn down offers to elope.
Don't worry; bend over.

I've been at this a real long time,
Protecting you and fighting crime.
Don't worry; bend over.
Wipe your tears, miss, and dry your eyes.
You get to fly the friendly skies.
Don't worry; but first bend over.


*With apologies to Bobby McFerrin