Nil Desperandum–Walking Like A Libyan

The larder is bare,
Like your arse.
Put some pants on!

Riding shotgun,
In Haverfordwest,
Bûm gall unwaith;
Hynny oedd,
Llefain pan ym ganed.

Show this,
To your mother,
Then punch her,
In the throat!

Just maybe,
Josef Fritzl was,
Just misunderstood.

Lest we forget,
Little Tommy Two-Shits.
He is,
After all,
Better than you!

I hit a bum note.
Ha–fudge packer!
My knob,
Is smaller than yours,
But much sexier.


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