Blues Riff In F Major–A Twat In A Hat

Onto something,
A little more,
Serious.
Did we ever discover,
If Dankle Wheezemop,
Was the infamous,
Roof tile thief?

Take an antacid,
And stop whining!

Goodness gracious!
What a terrible mess!
Ostrich feathers,
And gloom juice,
Combine to make,
A substance hitherto,
Unknown to science.

A pair of glassus.
“Can I,”
She started,
“Borrow,”
She continued,
“Your sock?”
She asked.

Infertility,
Is no laughing matter.
Tee-hee-hee.

Codswallop!
Finger us arse.
Get a dildo,
And poke yourself,
In the eye.