At this point it’s only Mum’s tough, leathery flaps
Preventing complete vagino-anal prolapse
There was an ambivalence in your mother's eyes, as if she wasn't fussed,
That at least 300 blokes had spunked in her face (just as previously discussed).
Whenever there's a round of layoffs,
Unemployed blokes hurry to the bogs, to cover mum with their knob-coughs.
Mum's writing her autobiography and referring to a thesaurus,
Desperately looking for alternative words for 'anus.'
I'm covered in your diarrhea,
And soon to have your gonorrhea.
Mum's 4x400 men's 'relay race' :
1600 blokes taking turns on her arse, tits and face.
Mum's worst fear?
No bogs-blokes suffering from diarrhoea.
Mum doesn't do tick,
Unless, of course, bloke's are really thick.
Mum feels wronged,
When she isn't getting "wronged".
