Post by Barry Hodges, Bard of Gosforth on Jun 26, 2012 16:56:27 GMT
O my brothers, dearest droogs, do not worry your poor selves,
About what has been long forgot, since things change so skorry
And my glazzies can scarce distinguish one day from another
They all being one and the same to my puzzled rassoodock;
Yet some things changeth not methinks as I shall now tell
And well may ye weep and smudge your gloopy lipstick.
O I recall meeting a cute little devotchka one nochy near London Bridge
And inviting her to my flatblock for a bit of the old horroshow in and out
Since I truly loved naught more than a good spatting those days;
Only to find the soomka's seeming lovely white zoobies were false;
Verily, under her make-up her litso was as spotty as mine own arse
And her groodies plastic, unyielding of skorry moloko to my slovvering rot.
O, who can blame me for putting my fashionable flip boot in,
After doing the nagoy business together 'tis needless to say,
Shouting along at the top of my goloss to dear old Ludwig
And giving her the old ultra violence all over her plott,
Especially since the ptitsa had a von on her strong enough
To make your rookers want to rip the nose off your own rot.
O dear Bog, now I am an ancient veck and I have like groweth up
Being no longer ruled mindlessly by the dictates of my sharries
But walk around with stale filth and all over my grazzy platties
And not able to get the bolshy groody-bit into action,
But at least I can still remember the von of kotchka
And the sound of female golosses coming a malenky one, O Bog save me.
About what has been long forgot, since things change so skorry
And my glazzies can scarce distinguish one day from another
They all being one and the same to my puzzled rassoodock;
Yet some things changeth not methinks as I shall now tell
And well may ye weep and smudge your gloopy lipstick.
O I recall meeting a cute little devotchka one nochy near London Bridge
And inviting her to my flatblock for a bit of the old horroshow in and out
Since I truly loved naught more than a good spatting those days;
Only to find the soomka's seeming lovely white zoobies were false;
Verily, under her make-up her litso was as spotty as mine own arse
And her groodies plastic, unyielding of skorry moloko to my slovvering rot.
O, who can blame me for putting my fashionable flip boot in,
After doing the nagoy business together 'tis needless to say,
Shouting along at the top of my goloss to dear old Ludwig
And giving her the old ultra violence all over her plott,
Especially since the ptitsa had a von on her strong enough
To make your rookers want to rip the nose off your own rot.
O dear Bog, now I am an ancient veck and I have like groweth up
Being no longer ruled mindlessly by the dictates of my sharries
But walk around with stale filth and all over my grazzy platties
And not able to get the bolshy groody-bit into action,
But at least I can still remember the von of kotchka
And the sound of female golosses coming a malenky one, O Bog save me.
