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Spring is in the air and so is married love;
For marriage is a gift from up above.
Holy wedlock offers one unending joy
Which all the sands of time will ne'er alloy:
Once you're married both of you are free
To get stuck into some adultery.
From now on each new fornication
Will have an extra-marital relation.
So go and get your neighbours' tongues a-wagging:
With some adulterous randy ******* *******.
*Ah! que j'aime une nuitée chaude de fornication
(tellement, tellement mieux que la *******).
Have you heard about old Erik Satie?
He was quite slim and not un fatti;
Son père was a Frog, his Ma a wee ****
(which must have given quite a shock
to his musical chums at the Conservatoire
where he wrote "Trois morceaux en forme de poire").

While sitting 'au piano' one fine day
At his Honfleur home so bright and gay,
Our Erik felt himself come over queer,
(le résultat triste de beaucoup de bière).
He hadn't felt so odd since he didn't know when
(that's when he wrote his "Gnossiennes").

Now I don't want you to think Erik was bent
That certainly wasn't what I meant;
But there's no doubt he was a little odd
(indeed many called him an asexual sod);
For, although French, he loved not the ladies
(and he also wrote three nice "Gymnopédies").

Many piano pieces which Satie penned
Are rather silly and round the bend;
One was called "Prélude for a Dog"
(which he wrote whilst sur le bogue);
Perhaps his best known work is called "Parade"
Which some people think is quite avant-garde.

He was a bit ***** and collected umbrellas
Which set him apart from saner fellers;
He had lots of velvet suits to his name
(and for some reason, they all looked the same).
But he over-did it on the *****, was often ******,
Thus he died prematurely, and is sorely missed.
One day Professor George Knox
Sunbathed on some Greek rocks;
He saw something rude:
A girl swimming ****.
So he photographed Pandora's box.
There is a saucy double entendre here.
Goodnight ******
You fill me with sorrow;
Goodnight ******
You might die tomorrow.

Grunts and farting make me quite forlorn
But with each dawn I feel new-born;
Goodnight ******
While I'm deep inside you.

Goodnight ******
Let me lie beside you;
Goodnight ******
O what fun to ride you.

Goodnight ******,
Straightjacket enfold you,
Strong enough to hold you,
Goodnight ****** goodnight.
Sing this to the tune of "Goodnight Sweetheart" - it will make your neighbours laugh a lot.
The fiery rumblings in my bloated belly
  mean I simply must blow off a smelly;
And, having just consumed a Vindaloo,
  I'm fearful of a major follow-through;
But it's one of those really lucky nights -
  I'm wearing my uncle's open-crotch tights.
Poor little rabbits
Suffering for all mankind
And new hair shampoo.
The boy stood on the burning deck,
His ******* to the mast,
A very wise precaution
When Oscar Wilde went past.

But Oscar was a wily chap
And threw the lad a fritter;
And when he stooped to pick it up
Oscar ****** him up the *******.
Pus
When I think of you
I see nothing but putrid filth
Your heart is blacker than the darkest night
And your soul-substitute is filled with pus
Filthy foulness oozing from wounds
Suppurating with germs and graveyard worms
Christ Jesu I beg on my bony knees
In the deserted cemetary of my heart
That He will make you burn in Hell
Slowly inserting blazing steel knives in your eyes
While evil demons rip your guts out
And eat your colon before your living eyes .
'Ello, 'ello, is that the coppers?
I got somefink 4 U and I don't tell no whoppers -
That fatboy Billy Bunter from Number 4
'E won't be coming 'ome no more
'Cos I 'eard 'im 'aving a row wiv 'is Dad, old Zorro
And 'e won't be seen about the place tomorrow.

Alas! Poor old Fat Boy Billy from Number 4
Is in some black bags lying outside the door:
So come along and get 'im, coppers,
Before the ******* foxes get all stressy
Wiv their ******* great choppers
Which will make it well ******* messy.
A juvenile prank which went down the toilet and now my younger brother will go to jail and get buggered in the showers.
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