The Foul and The Silly-Twat
Posted: Tue May 19, 2009 1:55 pm
The Foul and the Silly-Twat
The Foul and the Silly-Twat went to Spain
On a Boeing 747.
They took some weed, and plenty of speed
And flew off for a hell made in heaven.
The Foul looked up from his plastic cup,
In his hand he was holding a bra,
‘You silly old Twat! This isn’t my hat,
What a silly old Twat you are,
You are,
You are!
What a silly old Twat you are!’
Twat said to Foul, ‘Don’t call me a cow!
You’re tongue’s like a dirty old sewer!
I won’t let you wreck me! So start to respect me:
You’re language is just like manure.’
They landed in Spain, and it started to rain,
Every day for the rest of their time,
They sat in the bar reading yesterdays Star,
And brawled over lager and lime,
And lime,
And lime!
And brawled over lager and lime.
‘Here Waiter, please tell me where someone will sell me
A whore!’ Said the Waiter, ‘I can.’
And he showed him the way, it was not far away
And he watched the old Foul as he ran.
He turned to his wife, who was holding a knife,
Her tears like the Niagara Falls;
If he comes back tonight, he’d better take flight
I’m going to chop off his balls,
His balls,
His balls,
I’m going to chop off his balls.
The Foul and the Silly-Twat went to Spain
On a Boeing 747.
They took some weed, and plenty of speed
And flew off for a hell made in heaven.
The Foul looked up from his plastic cup,
In his hand he was holding a bra,
‘You silly old Twat! This isn’t my hat,
What a silly old Twat you are,
You are,
You are!
What a silly old Twat you are!’
Twat said to Foul, ‘Don’t call me a cow!
You’re tongue’s like a dirty old sewer!
I won’t let you wreck me! So start to respect me:
You’re language is just like manure.’
They landed in Spain, and it started to rain,
Every day for the rest of their time,
They sat in the bar reading yesterdays Star,
And brawled over lager and lime,
And lime,
And lime!
And brawled over lager and lime.
‘Here Waiter, please tell me where someone will sell me
A whore!’ Said the Waiter, ‘I can.’
And he showed him the way, it was not far away
And he watched the old Foul as he ran.
He turned to his wife, who was holding a knife,
Her tears like the Niagara Falls;
If he comes back tonight, he’d better take flight
I’m going to chop off his balls,
His balls,
His balls,
I’m going to chop off his balls.