It's Christmas Day, and mum's not in the kitchen stuffing the turkey,
She's still in the bogs, getting stuffed by huge blokes from Turkey.
Have an unusual labia story,
In that yours was genetically grown in a laboratory.
Mum's one of those old-school bogs-sluts, prone to to snobbery,
Where it's all about up-the-arse and no cock-gobbery.
Mum demands to be knobbed at between 100-2.5kHz
And finishes classed as ‘impressive spurts’
In this world, nothing is certain except death and taxes,
Oh, and the relentless hammering of mum's poo-axis.
Mum: anyone's after one Bacardi
Dad: willy won't get hard-y
Mum's cunt is far from ship-shape and Bristol fashion,
Over the years it's taken a right old smashin.
For Christmas, mum's getting the new album by Michael Bublé,
And not only that, she'll be getting a festive big-blokes willy-doubly!
Dad's been hanging around branches of Ann Summers,
Browsing in the section of the shop aimed at 'bummers.'
wine me,
dine me,
then anally mine me.
