Taking a chance on your Mum's community chest (and cunt).
Dad realises an existential junction,
Has arrived with his erectile dysfunction.
Come end of shift, the structural integrity of mum's poo-ledge,
Is on a knife edge.
Whilst stoving your mum I saw a look of serene stillness, doctors later confirmed profound mental illness.
Dad believes he receives "all the right messages,"
From the under ages.
Amongst blokes, your mum's appallingly buggered-to-bits-bum has become highly prized,
No such joy for dad; his pathetic non-cock has been universally described as 'poorly sized.'
Newly recruited bog-blokes are encouraged not to tarry
As it prevents other blokes from giving it to Mum ‘up the Gary’
'I'm re-enacting the legend of Danaë'
Screams Mum from the middle of a huge bearded bloke's piss-spray
Another bogs-election victory for mum seems a certain bet,
Especially when she's out canvassing with her "golden rosette."
"Oh, your mother rang,
She's entertaining a German biker gang."
