31-33 is the last song written in the collection and the simplest one too. Several years after my divorce I was getting pretty lonely. What’s does a 62 year old river guide do to get a date? (BTW, guitars are not really chick magnets). In a moment of weakness I signed up on Match.com. Sure was fun window shopping all the ladies, but they all seemed to be looking for something other than a whitewater addict. It’s true, “1,200 women looked to see, one big gal she wrote to me.” After 6 months of that tease, I bailed and in a moment of self-deprecation I sat down and penned 31-33.
31-33
$0.99
31-33, they don’t make pants for me
32-34. my cuffs are dragging on the floor
31-33, Skinny White Boy yeah that’s me.
When I ask girls for a date,
they don’t even hesitate
Whoa they point me to the door,
“Don’t you come calling here no more”
Now I don’t know what to do,
way down south I’m feeling blue.
Well, I’m a slender Caucasian,
of the male persuasion
I don’t bark, I don’t bite
Still got my teeth and hair,
just not no derriere
I cannot help it if I was born slight
Well, I’ve been lonely way too long
So I signed up on Match.com
1,200 women looked to see,
one big gal she wrote to me
So I sat down wrote this song,
doctor Phill you got it wrong
31-33, I think it’s plain to see
That I’m truly in a funk,
maybe I should be a monk
Pull the blinds and lock the door,
I just can’t take it anymore
I’m a slender Caucasian,
of the male persuasion
I don’t bark, I don’t bite
Still got my teeth and hair,
just not no derriere
I cannot help it if I was born slight
I think I will unplug the phone,
she will call I won’t be home
I’ll be downtown drinking gin,
not pumping iron at the gym
And that’s the last you’ll hear from me
31-33.
31-33, Skinny White Boy yeah that’s me.