while consuming malted beverages
in brown paper bags
and the chorus go's
ei ei oo and
time for another round
of those copper top
amber frothies containing hop
dutch courage fighting fuel
made from fowl mouthed
voluptuous virgin standing upon
pink pants wearing gay
lord fockers white beanie
that used to be
bum crack showing hippsters
that now smell of
****e, 2000 is approaching
my cornhole in a
quantum superconductors magnetic field
full of cane toads
pouchy purses for windsurfers
and those gone berserkers
on there stand ups'
we all have our
festering sea ulcerous back
door moments, but without
the sphincter touching your
best mates girlfriends elbow
there's no need to
drop your strides to
do the car wash
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