Bogs-punters are often left thinking "what's the catch,"
Well, it's mum's STD-riddled arsehole and snatch.
It's Halloween, a night of goblins and ghosts,
For mum, it's a routine evening of nobbins and spit-roasts.
Dad claims he's the 'modeller,'
Of lingerie for toddler.
Mum maintains a fixed, thousand yard stare,
As blokes really hammer away "around there."
Mum's bum generals looking very concerned at the map!
"There isn't enough fire power to make inroads through the crap!".
Dad's new boyfriend, scary-poof Ross Kemp,
It's sweet they both have willy size 'as if in low temp.'
Dad’s having a ‘pop up’ (fiddle)
Hiding in the bushes overlooking the playground round the back of Lidl
Mum's still caked in quite a lot of dog crap,
So she's waving the blokes in for an extra "victory lap".
I find it quite threatening;
Your mum's arse, beckoning.
Mum can’t ever get enough
In the bum, but once in 1973 she did, (in the muff)
