Hello Muddah?
Hello Faddah?
Not sure just what
I should call ya
Since you had your
Operation
Got a brand new name, but same orientation

Hello Faddah?
Hello Muddah?
Is it one, or
(is) it the uddah?
Brain is reeling
From confusion
Over this transgender male/female illusion

You resemble
Dolly Parton
But you still sing
Like Dean Martin
And your Eva*
Wig at dinner
Hid a scalp that has less hair than old Yul Brenner’s

On your face there
Is a shiner
Underneath your
Cat-eye liner
And it’s always
Rather schocking
To see such hairy legs beneath a skirt and stockings

Please tell me, oh Muddah (Faddah?)
I am still your loving daughta
But I’m not sure who you oughta be-
Are you a he? Are you a she?

This puzzle is never-ending
From your recent gender-bending
Just what happened in the surgery
To change your sexuality?

Dearest Faddah?
Darling Muddah?
I could wind up
In the gutta
From the constant
Aggravation
Of each day trying to ascertain your station.

Tisket, Tasket,
Brain in basket
Just forget I
Even asked it
There, I feel a
Whole lot betta
Think I’ll go write Dr. Phil a nice long letta.



*Gabor, whose name graces a veritable wig empire