Dad, eyeing boys' "little baldies",
Showing them Spunk Biscuit (Garibaldis).
Your dad's posed in porno-mags aimed for bent geezers,
Shame he couldn't wank over them (he couldn't find the tweezers).
Even though dad’s barely got a willy
He’s definitely a paedophile
Bogs-blokes are playing a weird game of Connect Four,
With the hemorrhoids surrounding mum's back door.
It's the morning after, and mum's on the Gaviscon,
Due to the sheer volume of spunk she's taken on.
Chief Nonce Cop heard to mutter "well, he's certainly not a quitter,"
As the order goes out to remove all dad's advertisements for "local babysitter."
Your dad's cock: far from 'top drawer',
Your mum?
She's a tuppeny turdis-whore (no trace of pelvic floor).
Twat stench?
Week-old coleslaw.
Available now on DVD!
Your Mum's, 'Outdoor wee wee 3'.
Mum doesn't care who's in power; Labour, Tories, even the BNP,
As long as access to the public gents every night remains absolutely free.
Dad’s using electron microscopy
In a vain attempt to detect his tiny ‘Mr floppy’
