The Ballad of Richard

Well I was born with a best friend, he’s hangin’ down low,

Ain’t much for talkin’ but he’s always ready to go.

He’s a swingin’ lil’ fella, wears a turtleneck hat,

Sometimes he's proud, sometimes he's flat!

Oh, Richard, Richard, my little front pal,

You’ve ruined my pants and confused many gals.

You rise with the sun and sleep after fun,

But when you’re in jeans, you just wanna run!

He’s got a mind of his own and no sense of time,

Stands up in math class—ain’t even a crime!

He’s seen the world but mostly from zippers,

Been chased by cold water and nosy dog sniffers!

Oh, Richard, Richard, why can't you behave?

You got me kicked outta church and a chili cook-off rave.

You point without askin’, salute without need,

Like a GPS with a one-track greed!

You’ve cost me dates, and one job at Lowe’s...

But I still tuck you in where the boxer line goes.

And even when you shrink in a pool with shame...

You're still my boy—just... less in frame.

Now we’re older, you and me, takin' it slow,

Need a minute and a manual just to get up and go.

But you’ve been loyal, even through the slumps,

Even when the doc said, “That rash might be bumps…”

Oh, Richard, Richard, you stand the test,

Of time, of shame, and polyester vest.

You might not be fancy, or a Hollywood star,

But you’ve always been there, just below par.

So raise your glass (and not your fly),

To the little dude who’ll never say die.

Just don’t send pics, it ain’t polite—

‘Cause Richard in the wild is a scary sight.