Re-chart my hairy territory
Mum's had her 'in-betweens'
smithereens'd.
Bogs-blokes holding a candlelit vigil,
Due to the loss of mum's area previously known as "vaginal."
State of mum's nether?
No longer "together".
Mum's in the phonebox, shouting 'Doctor!' down the blower;
Bemoaning the state of her farm-hand induced vaginal 'Krakatoa'.
Very little is written in your father's day planner;
"Wank myself blind whilst listening to Jan Hammer".
The carrier bags of shit and piss Dad keeps as memorabilia,
Are from his long and distinguished career in coprophilia.
Mum believes in equal opportunities,
For bogs-blokes with both enormous and massive willies.
Mum's fudger looking really grim,
But she won't budge on "nil by quim".
Mum's a perennial bogs-favourite despite a strong physical resemblance to a melted waxwork of Who frontman Roger Daltrey
Dad's trouser portion: a charitable description would be 'paltry'
"Oh, think twice,
It's just another day for mum and blokes with pubic lice..."
