Blokes queue
To do
Mum up the poo
Flue
Bogs-blokes in the queue last night looking utterly defeated,
As news comes down the line that mum's arsehole has finally been "completed."
Mum's on patrol,
turdis-face: brown coal,
anal horror for folk gone-shocking
(it gapes, like a salad bowl).
All in all, I think it's fair to say mum's no longer a spring chicken,
But gents-blokes still agree with the fact it's a cheap place to put your dick in.
Dad claims to have a justifiable theory,
For him to behave "kid-queerly."
Mum is not a fan of blokes miss-hitting,
The holes their wilies ought to be fitting.
Is there nothing sacred or taboo,
In the world of mum's public loo?
Mum's ‘livin da Vida loca’
As are the long queue of gents lining up to poke ‘er
Dad: gens sad, listless, despairing (ennui)
Mum: gens flattened against urinal trough by clamouring bogblokes (on wee)
the task of trying to arouse dad is rather onerous.
It seems there's simply no way to make his failed prick bonerous.
