I was born fuzzy and ugly, at the age of nearly three.
Would’ve been born sooner, but the stork was afraid of me.
He dropped me at a barber’s shop, much to the barber’s chagrin.
He didn’t know whether to diaper me, or shave my face and chin.
He put me under a washtub, with a bowl of milk and a bone,
To wait for a trapper, to explain "Whatzit" when I was shown.
A burly man in hobnailed boots clomped in with a mangy hound.
The barber banged upon the tub, but I didn’t make a sound.
The tub was lifted from the floor, so the dog could take a sniff,
It flipped upside-down, and all four legs went stiff.
Roaring "Whatzit" you got under there," the trapper reached for me.
I opened my mouth two feet wide and gobbled a finger... or three.
The barber got in a frenzy, he rushed to the big man’s side.
With his razor he swung at me, but took trapper’s ear and hide.
"Whatzit?" they hollered; I rushed quickly out the door.
Made me sick being there, amidst the blood and gore.
Into the woods and hills I ran, 'til I came upon a hollow,
I thought I would be safe there, certain no one would follow.
For a while I was lonely... then SHE came into my life;
So lovely she captured my heart; I asked her to be my wife.
We’ve lived here many years; little "Whatzits" we had galore.
It must be eighteen or nineteen, or maybe twenty four.
We don’t ask for anything, except to be happy and free,
If you chance upon a "Whatzit’s" cave, only contentment you will see.
Don’t be afraid of us; or any of our “Kith and Kin.”
We share this earth by HIS choice; the same world you live in.
Don’t pick on us, or get us riled, because you don’t understand,
It’s possible you’ll lose a finger or two, or maybe even your hand.