On a bridge sat the Bishop of Buckingham
Just thinking of twats and of sucking 'em
And watching the stunts
Of the cunts in the punts
And the tricks of the pricks that were fucking 'em.
From the depths of the crypt at St. Giles
Came a scream that resounded for miles
Said the vicar, "Good Gracious!
Has Brother Ignatius
Forgotten the Bishop has piles?"
There was a young curate of Twickenham
Whose pants had a wonderful prick in 'em
He thought it great guns
To disrobe all the nuns
And this marvelous object to stick in 'em.
No comments:
Post a Comment