the task of trying to arouse dad is rather onerous.
It seems there's simply no way to make his failed prick bonerous.
call the pope and tell him the news:
my finger came off in your mother's cooze.
Go into Debenhams and piss all over competing firms’ training bras
Mum maintains a fixed, thousand yard stare,
As blokes really hammer away "around there."
Dad's in the beer tent and he can tell from his watch,
it's time to get his shitbox rammed
(eggy cock: scotch).
Even in the supposedly sacred period of Lent,
Your mum's eating out bloke's shit-boxes in the gents.
Mum's always had a serious appreciation of the music, art and culture of the deep south;
Yet heavily trumping this is her insistence on farmhands in her fanny, arse, and mouth.
There's little hope
Of dad's prick being visible under even the strongest microscope.
dad's bum: wrenched.
mum: cum-drenched.
thirst quenched.
Bum-docs stuck in endless sisyphian cycle of patching up mum's shitter, only for her to run straight back to the bogs to get spatchcocked by yet another giant willy?
Si.
