Salutations! This age, it seems, is immersed in an existential uncertainty evocative of a crap game. Simply stepping out is a roll of the dice - amid a pandemic of thinly-masked angst and hand sanitation. Meanwhile, many overlook the essential cleanliness of those nether regions. Whether this represents a bum steer on the part of government is, doubtless, a moot point. However, I aim to address this faux pas.
Indeed, inspired by a recent transition from effluent London to boggy Essex, I’ve been stirred to unleash another outpouring. Whilst my discordant strains are sure to get up some people’s noses, surely a bracing gust is the best tonic for those post-lockdown blues?
So affix your nosegay. And savour a salubrious serving of sludge with a piquant side order of de Sadian horror…
Dedication:
To Des Gusting and Fart Carbuncle – deplorables extraordinaire.
* * * *
‘Sing a Song of Sixpence’
(for fellow Guinness lovers everywhere)
Sing a song of shit-bums
A knave binging on stout
Four and twenty black turds
from a bung’ole put to rout
When his buttocks opened:
logs tossed like Highland Fling
And then a little dainty shart
that babbled like a spring
The king was in the shite-shack
with turds stuck up his chute
The queen was on the bidet
with clagnuts to uproot
When they copped a whiff of knave
the bomb squad were rushed in
To try to foil a gas attack
from cohorts of Bin Laden
‘Ride a cock-horse…’
(for those favouring equine pursuits)
Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross?
You’ll see a fine lady presiding in court
Wagging her finger as your sentence grows
Ten years for the outrage and dung on your toes
‘Goosey Goosey Gander’
Farty-arse offender,
puffing your malodour;
upstairs and downstairs
and in the lady’s chamber
There you met a preacher
who’d save you with his prayers
So you let rip with a cannonade
and blew him down the stairs
‘Mary had a little lamb’
Mary had a hairy bum;
it’s fleece was caked in pooh
And everywhere that Mary went
diarrhoea would soon ensue
She left a trail thru’ church one day;
transgressing of God’s rule
Moreover, he was furious
now the font contained stool
‘Humpty Dumpty’
Humpty Dumpty had a great ball
(Humpty Dumpty’s other was small)
All the king’s horses, they could not forfend
coveting that whopper of a bell-end
‘I'm a Little Teapot’
I’m a little pee-pot
short and stout
Here you dangle
cock and scrote
When you get a bladder-full
aim your spout
Gush and drip
then push fart out
‘Pop Goes the Weasel’
Half a ton of chicken and rice
No blubber-gut my equal
That's where all my money goes
Plus, I pong sub-faecal
‘Hey diddle diddle’
Hey diddle-diddle, the ole’ priest had a fiddle,
while ogling teens at a bus stop
Tho’ the crutch up his bum ended the fun,
as his colon dropped out with a ‘plop’
‘The Queen of Hearts’
The Queen of Farts
She sprayed some sharts
All on a bummer’s day
The Knave of Tarts
Hid behind ramparts,
To escape her bum’ole melee
The King of Farts
had anal warts;
each squit left him full-sore
The Knave of Tarts
had passed them on
(a popinjay and whore!)
‘Mary, Mary, quite contrary’
Peenie Weenie, quite contrary,
how big, your cock, does it grow?
Before baring all and slipping it in,
at some c*nt’s keen say-so
or
Muscle Mary, goblin’ fairy
How does your ‘cottage’ go?
With clammy balls at urinal stalls
and pretty cocks all in a row
or
Hairy Mary, muff like a briary
How does your thicket grow?
With hairy balls and sprinkling cocks
and sperm drops all in a row
‘Incy wincy spider’
(A tribute to certain ghastly hussies prowling Soho)
Mincing-wincing barfly groping someone’s spout
Yanked down the zip then flaccid prick tugged out
Out came his buttocks, like over-pricked soufflés
Mincing-wincing fly-puller was told to ‘go away!’
Mincing-wincing barfly flounced o’er to someone new
Dousing in perfume to mask the sperm and pooh
‘Stand and deliver!’ camped this bum-bandit anew
(Gauche was his manner - cavernous, his flue)
‘One, two, three, four, five’
One, two, three, four, five
once I caught a prick alive
Six, seven, eight, nine ten,
then I drank it dry again
Why such keen felatio?
Because I like to gobble so
How did he ‘bait his rod’?
He said his name was PC Plod
‘Humpty Dumpty’
Hearty Farty pissed in a pew
Hearty Farty made a big pooh
All the queen's clergy
and all the queen's men,
took their cue to start farting again
Hearty Farty got carried away,
Heart Farty was f*cking all day
All the queen’s clergy
and all the queen's men,
saw Hearty Farty in 7th heaven
‘Sing a Song of Sixpence’
Sing a song of pooh bags
a pocketful of shit
Four and twenty cock-knobs
baked on a spit
When everyone began to eat,
the sperm began to flow
Oh, what a sexy dish,
to keep on cumin’ so...
‘Bobby Shaftoe’
Nobby Shafter’s gone to pee
Bollocks dangling at one knee
His showers, not of confetti!
Leaky Nobby Shafter
Nobby Shafter’s bright and fair
Combing down his anal hair
Skidmarks in his underwear
Frowsy Nobby Shafter
‘Hickory Dickory Dock’
Hickory dick-ory dock,
The arse slipped up the cock,
The cock struck bum
The arse runs brown,
Slippery dick-ory cock
‘Baa Baa Black Sheep’
(For Donald Rump and Joe Bidet – a perfect coupling)
Blah-Blah media sheep,
have you any bull?
Yes pleb, yes pleb, outlets full
Endorsing the plutocrats’ electoral campaign
A dunghill of daily sludge
from hacks down bullshit lane
‘This Old Man’
This old man, he played one;
he sprayed shit-crap from his bum
With a knick-knack, cruddy-crack,
give a bog some loam
This old man manured his home
This old man, he played two;
he belched turd-gas from his flue
With a knick-knack, smelly-crack,
give a bog some loam,
This old man blew up his throne
This old man, he played three;
he leaked urine down his knee
With a piss-splash, piddle-slash,
give a bog some foam
This old man jet-sprayed his home
‘Little Jack Horner’
Little Jack Horner
shat in the corner,
excreting his shit-mass high
He put in his thumb
and pulled out more dung,
and said, ‘what a pooper am I!’
‘Old MacDonald had a Farm’
(An ode to speciesism)
Ron MacDonald’s factory farm
G-O-R-E show
And on that farm he murdered cows
G-O-R-E show
With a moo-moo here
And a rip-slice there
Cutting veins, spilling brains
Everyday atrocity
Ron MacDonald’s battery farm
G-O-R-E show
And on that farm he caged some chicks
G-O-R-E show
With a cluck-cluck here
A garrotting there
Here a corpse, there a corpse
Heading for the grinder
Ron MacDonald’s prison farm
G-O-R-E show
And on that farm he penned some sheep
G-O-R-E show
With a baa-baa here
And a death squad there
Here a cry, there a scream
Never seeing daylight
Ron MacDonald’s slaughter farm
G-O-R-E show
The Animal Kingdom’s evil clown
G-O-R-E show
With an abattoir here
and a bloodbath there
Advertise-sanitise
Gluttonous for profit
Ron MacDonald - cuddly clown?
L-M-F-A-O
‘Twinkle, twinkle, little star’
(Dedicated to my dear friend Harlot O’Scara from Bum with the Wind.)
Twinkle, twinkle, sequined bra
How I strut as a crossdresser!
Panty girdle, heels so high,
negligee unbound to the thigh
Prancing ‘round - my Shangri-La,
‘til the wife burst in on our boudoir
