Strike! Mums left perma-scowling,
After a strenuous game of ten prick bowelling.
Dad's captain,
Of Team Thin.
Thick blokes bedeck mum with "dog-trifle",
Then scuttle round the back, for a good "rifle".
Mum's in the bogs, "taking a dive":
Big Bloke XI playing a "back five".
Mum's received a smorgasbord of colossal-farmhand gush
And now her arsehole and twat are a sloppy, indistinct mush.
Over the years, mum's found the perfect bogs-party starter,
Is with a diarrhea and piss filled pinata.
Mum writes a popular blog,
On life working the gents bog.
The atmosphere of the bogs descends into an excited hush...
It's that time of year when mum can produce a vaginal ice-slush!
Your father's wrong-shlong fails to fatten,
unless placed directly in front of the underwear section of catalogue: Gratton.
In her own special tribute to the England team 'taking the knee'
Mum's kneeling down to 'take the willy'
