Mum doesn't want lubricant,
Anywhere near her bum and cunt.
Your mum in a gang-bang - over when last man drops,
Dad's on the sidelines - wanking over slops.
Easter at yours: a strange kind of treasure hunt,
where's the remote? I'm afraid, up your mum's cunt.
greet my arrival with a "one gun salute"
(a mighty salvo from your monstrous piss-chute)
Mum just tries to stay 'zen,'
When she's taking on lots and lots of men.
Mum's TV concept: a lot like Robot Wars
Except the robots are solely designed to smash in her back doors
It seems from your records that you're a highly skilled pianist,
Underlined in bold: 'very, very deeply fist'.
Mums Bogs-Slut Union has balloted its members,
On strike action against working with any small members.
Friday night and bogs fun is due to resume,
As blokes take turns sliding down mum's poo-flume.
It really is a heartless prank,
To send dad an invite to the sperm bank.
