Re-chart my hairy territory
Your dad's suffered a lifetime of appalling ill health;
Due, in part, to continually going to the toilet on himself.
Mum's life is grey and monotonous, interrupted by brief, fleeting moments of levity,
For instance, when a well-hung bloke fucks her up the anal cavity.
Angry protest dad (clenched fist),
he's violently opposed to blokes not stoving his shit-cist.
Mum’s bogs-encounter with a group of apprentice pipefitters is a little ‘May to December’
But they’re all learning a lot about how to properly execute a quadruple-ender
Mum believes in equal opportunities,
For bogs-blokes with both enormous and massive willies.
Dad’s wandering the earth
In search of increased girth
Destroy all my future hopes,
With the apocalypse of all bum pokes.
Number of hundreds of blokes who've porked your Mum,
Let's take a tally.
Subdivide results: her face/cunt/back alley.
Dad lying awake at night, endlessly relitigating old arguments,
About whether he can be said to have anything at all going on in either the "sexual" or "genital" departments.
Mum's knickers at half-mast due to Big Bloke Barry succumbing mid-sesh to 'dicky ticker'
Eulogy was simple and direct 'truly, there was no one thicker'
