Ruined flotsam, then jetsam.
Let's keep the onus on the anus!
Dad's in the 'spoons bogs with blokes taking speed;
Arse lips splayed plus prick-status: millipede.
Dad feels really strongly,
That it's OK to do kids "wrongly."
Life in the bogs is both a race to the bottom,
And also a race to mum's bottom.
every second your mum is conscious
blokes queue up to cause her anal wrongness.
Mum: gallons of spunk for din-dins
After a heavy session behind the bin-bins
Dad: terminal 'thin-thins'
Mum's terrible for falling into the arms,
Of some low-cog bloke who works on farms.
At Bogs College, blokes are taught,
That mum's arsehole is far from taut.
Mum fondly recalls long summers working the public bogs of Montpellier;
There were some seriously big fella there.
For mum, nothing could be finer,
Than three blokes apiece in arse, gob and vagina.
