Dad's feeling thoroughly chastised
After being caught exaggerating the size of his gens (describing them as 'thimble-sized');
Oh, quelle surprise!
Mum's in the bogs, on her knees.
Mum's pleased,
To be coated in "dick-sneeze."
It's a desperately close call,
As to whether dad's got anything between his legs at all.
What mum regularly fails to think through,
Is how, post shift, she'll be able to go for a poo.
Your mum's in constant demand in the train station bogs,
despite her face resembling 'a box of frogs'.
After Mum's weekly Soiree du bukakke
The bogs floor resembles a freshly iced wedding cake
Bogs-blokes know that mum isn't seeking any kind of romance or glamour,
She just needs blokes to hold the fuck-pace of an industrial jackhammer.
Dad's been hanging around branches of Ann Summers,
Browsing in the section of the shop aimed at 'bummers.'
broken and bleeding,
his genitals flaking,
it's no wonder your dad's cum chute is aching.
