My masterpiece, to the tune of "A boy named Sue", by Johnny Cash:
My daddy left home when I was three
And he didn't leave much to my other dad and me.
Just a big ole' needle and an empty bottle of 'roids.
Now, I don't blame him cause he run and hid
Coz I was the cheatinist, sorriest, most-lying kid
But before he left, he went and named me "Shawne."
Well, he musta known I’d catch a lot of flak
for shootin' up and gettin' sacks.
It seems I had cheat my whole life through.
So I'd pay some guy and he would say
With these 'roids you might be good someday.
I tell ya, life ain't easy for a boy named "Shawne."
Well, I grew up jealous and I grew up mean,
My a** got burned by the other teams,
I'd roam from town to town to find new quarterback.
But I made a vow to the moon and stars
That I'd search the honky-tonks and OD bars
And sack that man who gave me that awful name.
Well, it was San Diego in mid-July
And I just hit town and my needle was dry,
I thought I'd stop and have myself a hit.
At Qualcom Stadium, a stdium of of mud,
There at a table, sucking pud,
Was the dirty, mangy dog that named me "Shawne."
Well, I knew that snake from a picture I’d seen
On the Stadium's giant E-vision screen,
And I had run his ID and tracked it to South Cali.
He was big and bent and gray and old,
And that was just his Johnson, which felt oddly cold,
And I said: "My name is ‘Shawne!' How do you do?
Now you’re gonna get DIE!!"
Well, I hit him hard with my massive hand
And he went down first, kinda like the b**** I am,
Then he come up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear.
But I busted some MREs right across his teeth
And we crashed through the wall and into the street
With 49ers and Raiders looking at us like we were queer.
Then he popped up and offered a dare
"Will you ever be a player like D-Ware?",
He was rented like a mule and he couldnt have sacked ole' Bledsoe.
I heard him laugh and then I heard him cuss,
He went for his needle and I pulled mine first,
He stood there lookin' at me and I saw him smile.
And he said: "Shawne, the future is nigh
And if a man's gonna be obsessed, he's gotta lie.
And I knew I wouldn't be there to help fake your ability.
So I give ya that name and I said “pwn3d”
I knew you'd have to lie and shoot up to own
And it's the name that helped to make you a loser
He said: "Now you just fought one hell of a fake fight
And now you can do stupid dances all night
Say you killed me and I won't expose you if you do.
But ya ought to thank me, before I die,
For the lies in your resume and the drugs in your thigh
Cause I'm the son-of-a-b**** that named you "Shawne.'"
I got all choked up and I dropped my drugs
And I told this idiot that I'm just too thug
And I left with thoughts and prayers for his old gray arse.
And I think about him, my weak old pop,
Every time I try to play QB cop,
And if I ever have a son, I think I'm gonna name him...
Ware! Or Haley! Or Harvey! Anything but Shawne! I still hate that name!