On Sundays, Mum does a spot of dogging
As a break from 6 consecutive days of bogging
Your dad requires specialist made-to-measure tweezers,
For when he wants to try and put his willy in geezers.
Blokes rushing to the bogs at maximum velocity,
To perpetrate upon mum maximum bum-atrocities.
Dad has a constantly strong presence on social media,
In his role as an advocate for all things pedophilia.
From the ranks of good taste and decency there may well be dissenters,
But dad's intent on starring in a film involving no lubes and various Blue Peter presenters.
April is indeed the cruelest month,
That big-bloke basically removed your mum's 'cunth.'
Dad's in his slops, in the 'even more damp patch',
Mum's slap-dash-snatch-latch;
scratch, scratch, scratch.
Dad’s trouser snake gets hard (but remains spindly)
When he thinks about the crimes of Ian Brady and Myra Hindley
Mum sometimes gets the willies
That one day she might not get the willies
There'd been a tip-off and the ambulance crews were already there,
Even so, some kind onlooker set off a Bum-doctor Distress Flare,
Whilst rubber-neckers slowed down traffic to stare,
Yep, Mum had suffered a massive cunt-to-arse tear.
