Vomit Boy

(Here’s my soliloquy song for the hero of a Broadway Musical I have in treatment, who’s engaged in difficult profession as the (hitherto) unsung Carnival Vomit Boy.)

If you notice me when you look at me
If you look at me at all,
If you happen to wonder what I be,
You can listen: Hear them call:

Vomit boy needed on the Tilt-a-Whirl
Vomit boy, vomit boy
Vomit boy wanted at the Shaft…

I drag my ass across this carnival from six o’clock to three
I watch the yokels stuff their gaping maws with stuff they shouldn’t see
‘Cause Carmine’s made the corndogs out of rat, bathes in the lemonade,
The caramel corn is dank and foetid and the pretzels are decayed
I watch these rubes get in machines that snap their flabby bodies ’round
And fling them roughly upside down, leaving lunches on the ground.

Yes they’re throwing up and I’m cleaning up
And the Ralph never ends
Oh they’re blowing chunks as my mop it dunks
And this mop’s my only friend

Vomit boy needed on the Hoist and Hurl
Vomit boy, Vomit boy
Vomit boy to the Roto-Raft…

These lousy rides are old and deadly, there are frequent injuries,
(our main mechanic is a drunken and depressive chimpanzee)
But the gate receipts exceed the payoffs and the lawyer’s fees.
I’ve mopped up tongues and heads and hands and several sets of broken knees-
I’ve found the strangest stuff ejected- I could fill a small novella,
Here’s my tip: don’t go beneath these rides without a good umbrella.

They say from the top of the Ferris wheel
You can see for miles
Here down below, see chicken peels
And variegated bile
They say on the top of the Toss it Up
They’re halfway to the moon
But here below as they rise up
The puke is raining, soon…


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