Here's a short poem to commemorate.
I met a man one day
who had a notion in his mind
to give me all his underwear
at least, all that he could find.
I thanked him very much
and said, "That's very kind and all,
but I have plenty in my drawer.
Besides, you're kind of tall."
"Your underwear won't fit me,
only cover up my FACE :0
That's not the way they're 'possed to fit
That's not their common place."
"Besides, yours have tears in them
and holes inside and out .
You should, instead of offering them to me
just go ahead and throw them out."
"Okay," he said
as he put them in the trash.
"You wouldn't want 'em anyway,
'cause I've got this ugly rash."
So off he went away from me
to carry on his life,
to the one who washes all his drawers,
his kind and underwear-buying wife.
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