You should have seen the state of the area from which mum fartres,
Following a post-mass anal-sesh in the car park of the cathedral at Chartres.
Mum's working the bogs at the Superbowl,
And hoping for outcome: "Super Salad Bowl."
Mum's shockingly blasé,
About getting dry-bummed in the khazé.
Christmas morning: blokes are flocking
To open up Mum's "nether stocking"
Mum always has an optimistic take,
On how many willies she can take.
After years in the gents, your mum is certainly not daft,
All the blokes she's fucked have honed both her cunt and her craft.
ah! bliss!
a faceful of piss!
Mum's not looking for some solo Superman,
She's more after a large, sex-starved, "group-a-man."
Mum's turdis-handlers now utilising miltiary-grade AI
To plot the most devastating course up mum's brown eye.
Bogs-blokes are entrusted,
To get mum's arsehole busted.
