Dad attempts to lure kids for sex,
Riding around on a BMX.
One can no longer describe there being a marriage,
Between mum's perineum and the rest of her undercarriage.
Dad’s version of ‘jumping the shark’
Was getting caught by Nonce Squad flashing toddlers in the park
Tick, tock, father staring at the clock;
He's got an appointment with his crinkly horror-sock
(penis never dock).
Dad's opened a little poo boutique,
All items made of poo, and considered unique.
Mum's...?
Doing a handstand in the bogs;
Face like box of frogs;
Grim-faced blokes giving her a good rog(er)s;
Zoomed-in high-res live stream of her poo-lodge(s).
Post-shift, mum's often shell-shocked,
If she's been particularly "well-cocked."
After your dads organ grinding recital,
it looked as if it had gone through a fucking spin cycle.
It's Christmas eve eve eve,
And mums been drilled by Steve, Steve, and Steve.
Bogs-bloke's struggling to gloss over,
What they've seen when mum bends over.
