Mum's bum finally approaching "nicely filled",
By bloke with prick like a child's bicycle.
No bogs-bloke has ever complained
Of leaving Mum’s sessions with balls undrained.
Mum's ready for new year's, nude, al fresco;
She's having, as celebrated J-pop idol group Perfume sang, a "Chocolate Disco".
New bogs-blokes have to go through mandatory training,
In how to give mum a proper main-veining.
Dad's been cancelled on social media,
Due to his incessant promoting of paedophilia.
Bloke's size? Thick!
Mum to gents? Quick!
At this stage, it's unlikely mum's going to be cured,
Of her addiction-like need to be arse-skewered.
Mum's favourite poem, "Do Not Go Gently into that Good Night,"
And when you see the number of blokes in the queue, you think 'yes, quite.'
It certainly beat the normal shite you get on Saturday night TV,
That time your mum appeared on The Generation Game and was basically fucked in three.
It's never going to stay afloat,
your father's poorly designed shit and piss boat.
