During The Beatle's late acid phase,
your mum scraped a living squirting anal mayonnaise.
Your dad's a big fan of the 'classless society'-
He likes to wear chaps of the arseless variety
while buggered by tramps of doubtful sobriety,
binmen unconcerned with notions of propriety,
office clerks plagued with social anxiety,
distingished professors of applied psychiatry,
Catholic archbishops of questionable piety
and three minor royals of some notoriety.
When the council came round, they gave your dad some 'jip',
he'd smothered the estate in wrong horror-shit
(and his weird machine had failed to syphon it).
Your dad's ability to gain an erection: long gone,
Now, even when looking at blokes, it's just an eighth-on.
It's fair to say that mum's poo-HQ,
Appears far from looking new.
If you actually sit down and read the Koran,
There's an astonishing amount of material about mum's rotten flan.
The atmosphere of the bogs descends into an excited hush...
It's that time of year when mum can produce a vaginal ice-slush!
Dad's a self-styled,
Celebrity pedophile.
The Dog-Shit Station Service Bloke is an essential cog in the machine,
In mum's idea of a tip-top performing fuck-latrine.
Dad shouts loudly "one size fits all,"
On his learner bra market stall.
