Mum buds in, listening to Kneecap,
While a procession of wide blokes stagger in and pump where she crap.
Dad's put the contract out to tender;
"Wanted: deaf, blind, massive-bummed bender
(preferably, a convicted sex offender)".
I've talked to the men at the top,
they insist your mother be smothered in slops,
There's some movement on this: bile, shit, or half-brewed horror-hops.
In middle age, Dad's 'horn'
Resembles (in shape, smell, texture, colour and size) a 3-day old defrosted Iceland miniature prawn
Mum fucked Buddy the Elf,
And was left with extremely poor sexual health.
Mum never ducks
Farmhand fucks
(in her duct(s)).
Bogs-blokes doing slow claps,
At the emergence of mum's prolapse.
Your dad's been on the internet and has placed several lifelong subscriptions,
for material that involves pissing on electric fences (blokes with anal afflictions).
Mum's slipped a disc,
After a strenuous game of "Clitorisk."
Mum's interest is quickly piqued,
At the prospect of being thick-prickily "Greeked".
