Another night in the bogs, same old routine, same old faces,
Same old varieties of human and animal faeces.
There is very little left intact,
Your anal canal has been thoroughly attacked.
Dad's notoriety as a canal path flasher,
Is offset by him having a willy like the rind off a bacon rasher.
Massive quantities of crap being forced into your mum's trap...
Hear the crowds cheer and clap!
It feels like giving birth, when you fill me with your girth.
Horror-father's wrong cock (pierced minutia gland),
trying (in vain) to make it hard is, for the forseeable, all that's planned
(numb hand).
What's the weirdest place you've fucked your dad before?
I know, it's the aisle in the supermarket where they keep the coleslaw!
Mum’s not after a ‘caped crusader’
So much as 30-50 feral bog-blokes to anally invade ‘er.
Tummy trouble:
Rumble and bubble leading to loosening of downpipe, (arse).
Net result - trouser farce.
