Strip Me Bare
Up My Arse

Up My Arse

There's a world that's like no other
Up my arse.
There's a big black hairy mother
Up my arse.
There's a privet and a thicket,
There's a dozen games of cricket,
There's a sofa, there's a dwarf,
There's a river, there's a wharf,
There's a bucket full of pike,
There's a vicar on a bike.
I think that you would like
It up my arse.

There's a badly wounded pigeon
Up my arse.
There's an oven and a fridge on
Up my arse.
There's a robust village squire
And a roaring fake log fire
And a pair of turtle doves,
Oh, I know that you would love
It up my arse.

There's a tiny Burmese pony
Up my arse.
There's a granny who's quite bony
Up my arse.
There's a haddock with a hat on,
A soldier with a baton,
A fish that's lost its key,
You really should come see
What's up my arse.

There's a roundabout with horses
Up my arse
There's a wealth of different sauces
Up my arse.
There's a ferret in a pickle,
Mr. Small and Mr.Tickle,
A rabbit and a gnome,
Oh, it really feels at home
Here up my arse

My Big Fat Arse

My Big Fat Arse

My Venezuelan Beaver Toast was slightly much too hot
It smelt like fresh bananas with the consistency of snot
It wasn't very luscious but it didn't see why not
It looked just like a pheasant that was waiting to be shot

Oh send me down to Satan's lair
I have been bad, I belong there
Oh tie me up and strip me bare
I really really do not care

My congealed balaclava smurf was sitting in the sun
He suffered from a skin disease so he didn't have much fun
He thought the beer was squiffy so he sheltered in his bum
He kept on making handbags 'til his handbag days were done

Oh haul me up and cuff me tight
I am reborn, I've seen the light
Oh fly me like a great big kite
I am the Lord. I feel alright.

My inate self-delusion is as furtive as can be
It thinks it is much cleverer, much cleverer than me
It tries to make me think that I am doing a degree
When really I'm a dolphin which is looking for a knee

Oh sing my song, Oh sing my song,
I am so right I can't be wrong
Oh give me money, fags and beans
And fly me off to New Orleans.


Wombat Carnival

Oh band bearing perfect
Why must you disappoint?
With a name like
Wombat Carnival,
Your feet I would annoint.

You didn't have to try too hard
To win my admiration
You could have sounded rubbish
And I'd still have felt elation.
But I didn't think of wombats
When you played your feeble song
And you HAVE to sound like wombats
Otherwise it is just wrong.
You HAVE to sound like wombats
That are having lots of fun
With a name like Wombat Carnival,
Stick it up your bum.

Oh band bearing perfect
How can you be this shit?
You aren't even worthy
Of being played to my right tit.

Spam Poo

Oh fiddle de dee
Oh fiddle de dum
Please can you help me
There's some Spam up my bum
It gives me the shitters
As it turns into fritters
Can I interest you please sir in some?

Oh fiddle de da
Oh fiddle de doo
It comes out in lumps
When I go to the loo
If you are hungry I'll give some to you
Oh please won't you help me
I've got the Spam-poo

Spam poo is edible
Spam poo is clean
Spam poo is healthy
It's perfectly lean
Spam poo is wonderful
Spam poo is fun
Spam poo is nice
It comes out of my bum

Jingle Bells

Jingle Bells

Jingle Bells
My cunt smells
Must be all the sores.
There's been at least
A thousand men
Between my foul bomb doors.

Ohhh! Jingle Bells
My cunt smells
It's seeping pus like glue
It must have been
That bloke with the clap.
God knows I've had a few.

Seeping down my thighs
With the stench of rotting flesh
Dribbling down my legs
Lumpy and unfresh.
Oh what fun we have
As we pick out all the scabs.
I leave a trail of yellow
All around the Ladies' lavs.

(sing) Jingle Bells
My cunt smells . . . etc.

An Unhealthy Obsession With Fish

An Unhealthy Obsession With Fish

You say I have an
unhealthy obsession with fish,
and that I seek psychiatric
assistance is your wish,
so, you envisage me sitting
by a fishy fish-filled pond.
What? Do you think of tackle
and of nets I am fond?
Or that I sit and secretly watch fish flying?
Is this what you are implying?

As if, as if, as if I would!
Fish need privacy and I am good
at understanding and recognising their needs
because I live in Leeds.
Fish capital of the world!
Fish capital of the universe!
To perch and cod and plaice and kipper I bow.
To shark and haddock I am not adverse.

You say I have an
unhealthy obsession with fish?
I say you have
a short memory and an empty dish.

Here is the tale...
I see you have gone quite pale...
(Oh yes)

I recall a dark time long ago.
A book which you would often show...

Oh no!

I've said too much!

Fish Fish
Fish Fish Fish
Fish Fish

I hoped that by now you had forgotten.

January 2000

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