I heard this song on the radio, and it reminded me that I hadn't written anything for Song Month yet. So here is my silly song parody, with apologies to Paul Simon (who can’t count; he only came up with 5.)

“The problem is all inside these tales," she said to me.
“The answer is easy if you read them thoroughly.
I’d like to help you in your struggle to be she.
There must be fifty ways to lose your lever.”

You could be hit by a bus, Gus.
Or take a spill off your bike, Mike.
Maybe fall on your shears, Piers
And you’ll need surgery.
You could get stabbed with a lance, Vance.
Just take a new pants chance.
Maybe snagged on a tree, Lee.
And make yourself a she.

You could get gored by a yak, Jack.
Or attacked by a moose, Bruce.
Maybe bit by a croc, Jacques
Then you’ll be member-free.
Get it blown up to bits, Fritz
But be careful what hits fits.
Just as long as it maims, James
And make yourself a she.

You could be hexed by a hag, Dag.
Or find a magical lamp, Champ.
Maybe buy a cursed ring, Bing
And you’ll enchanted be.
Go to that shop in the mall, Paul
And when you return it’s all wall.
Get a potion to sip, Kip
And make yourself a she.

Channel a feminine soul, Joel.
Let her spirit possess, Les.
Then she’ll redecorate, Nate
And a girl you will be.
She’ll inhabit your bod, Todd
Maybe using an odd god.
You’ll see her face in the glass, Cas
And make yourself a she.

You could be trapped in a lab, Tab.
Where they switch out your brain, Wayne.
Maybe transplant a part, Bart.
Then you’ll have to break free.
They’ll use nanomachines, Dean
To rewrite all your gene schemes.
And inject you with ‘mones, Bones
And make you become a she.

You could marry a bitch, Rich
She’ll toss your balls in a ditch, Mitch.
Then starting feeding you pills, Wills.
And make you be her sissy.
She’ll wash your brain like a pro, Joe
And your self-image will go “ho.”
She’ll make your free will subside, Clyde
You’ll lose your self as a she.

You could dress on a whim, Jim.
Maybe it’s for a party, Marty.
You’ll try to flirt with a dude, Jude.
And he thinks you’re pretty.
It was your new girlfriend’s plan, Stan.
But now she don’t want no damn man.
She has discovered she’s gay, Ray
You’ll make yourself a she.

Go on the run from the Mob, Bob.
Or do espionage, Raj.
Maybe become a Fed, Jed
Looking like a lady.
It’s a perfect disguise, Kai
But it will fool all the spy guys.
You’re a real femme fatale, Sal
When you’ve made yourself a she.

You could do it for work, Burke.
Maybe they’re not hiring men, Ken.
But there’s work for a girl, Earl
And you’re hired, Missy.
So unbutton that blouse, Klaus
The boss don’t want a house mouse.
He’ll put his hand up your skirt, Curt.
Since you’ve made yourself a she.

So tuck it on back, Mac.
And slide on a gaff, Raph.
Maybe stick it with glue, Stu
And then no one can see.
Just make sure it’s all bare, Blair
You don’t want any hair there.
Or the tape it will smart, Art.
When you make yourself a she.