Mum shakes out her twat like Town Criers bells,
A powerful calling to blokes, but fuck me, it smells.
And as the destruction of your mum's arsehole continues,
So remains absolute the lubrication refusals.
Dad’s once again trying to lure kids into his van with a ‘sweetie trail’
Luckily for them he will of course at the crucial moment genitally ‘fail’
Dad's at the Paralympics,
Campaigning for the inclusion of "men with really small and weird prics".
Mum's sole purpose and function,
Is to take it repeatedly up the crap junction.
Mum's got carpal tunnel
Of her saggy fish funnel.
Your mum's old minge a smelly 'silver fox,'
That's why most blokes opt for her appalling shit-box.
Sexually, dad's still wearing L Plates,
Mum? In the bogs, twat 'n' bum maxed-out "dinner plates."
Dad's never played second fiddle,
To anyone else who kiddie fiddle.
Mum's up for a brutalised back-truck,
From any undiscerning young buck.
