Meanest man I ever saw, was the one that I called…Paw.

 Yep.

 He was my Dad, when he got mad, he’d never curse nor swear,

He’d just chew his gum, then spit out some…and stick it in my hair.

 And I’d go, “Dadgum! Dadgum!  Dadgum…dadgummit.”

Us kids kept quiet both day and night, Dad knew that he could trust us,

‘Cause if we laid waste we’d surely taste what he called “juicy justice”.

I’d get it first, I’d get it worst, as for my rotten little sister?

He’d fling a wad, but it still seems odd, he somehow always missed her.

But oh not me, with malicious glee he’d heap it on my noggin,

Then squash it flat, call it a hat, my “shiny pink toboggan”.

And I’d cry, “Dadgum, dadgum, dadgum…dadgummit.”

(There’s more to it, but I’ve tortured you enough for now.  If I could write tunes like Little Brother this probably would get set to music.  It ends with me bringing my now-elderly Dad a nice ribeye steak, taking his dentures away, and shrieking “…go ahead, Dad…gum it!”  Then fade to the maniacal laughter.)