Lurching whipsmart goongun with wimple-tits
Biggums and droop-dick Babs.
You! A lot, for cumming and Bledsoe, Abernathy.
It was in the stacks all along.
Your continued manservience on Tugboat Tilly's
Bloated bookish dick-whistling Tarot deck
Gets wheedled towards a long, thin nous
For humble Gramps and stapled suicide bidders.
What say, my toasty chesnut roasting pan?
It was a mellow belch which brung ya.
Not to dance, that table's done spilled ya.
That red dress facepaint smears's what ails ya.
Giggle-glass breakfast nook in the house, ya.