The wizards sleeve or otters pocket
A place to shove his pocket rocket
A few drinks more and start to fear!
He's  looking for your mouse's ear.
Such ugly words we doth describe the place where Mr ***** jibes
But ladies whit is just as bad when talking of your little lad
The meat and veg the one plus two the love handle mother gave to you.
So sausage or **** hammer or throb
The names are all the same
Trying to get in the clowns pocket the ultimate aim !
No xmass time is at the door and many a load delivered raw
Unwrapped no label just a jump to keep the festive cheer on course
Be careful if this tale is you
For come September you will be blue
if the CSA come after you!

Away in the UK on any estate
The frost on the window
No coal in the great
Grandmas been buried
She died from the cold
Her fuel allowance was lost in the post
The children are coughing
And mums on the game
For money to feed them no job can she get
The benefits system has failed them again
Up in the bright sky it was all dark
The council turned of the street lights as well
The power is off the bill wasn't paid
But big business wallows on the profit its made
They called it recession and austerity too
But what it's real name was..
**** me and you

Every xmass some celebrity writes a book on how to slim or how to cook
Tells the world about their life in an autobiographical pile of *****
Bought by sons for mums and dads
Just to sit and gather dust