Mum starts to feel a kind of "cosmic oneness",
When her bumhole's knackered, and she's covered in dogs' mess.
Mum's enjoying a big-prick,
Picnic.
Twat-quacks unanimous mum-suggestion: 'Stop!';
'Lest your entire genital area become slop'(s).
Mum's gens: air sock,
Dad's gens: nothing there cock.
After a heavy shift in the bogs, blokes are cheered by mum's welcome cry of 'all back to mine,'
Dad's having lobsters shoved up his arse by celeb-chef and restauranteur, Rick Stein.
Mum does become quite potty mouthed,
When she's getting her botty ploughed.
Dad behaves like a sycophantic lickspittle,
Around blokes with bigger willies (but willies that are still little).
It's Paddy's Day, and mum understands,
The very specific needs of enormous farm hands.
Mum's still caked in quite a lot of dog crap,
So she's waving the blokes in for an extra "victory lap".
