Doona, oh doona
stop teasing me you meaty pillow
waiting impatiently in my room-a

I've had a long day
my feet have turned to clay
And I just want to climb inside
your soft womb-a

Whether at my feet on summer nights
Or mornings frosted, dark and wintery
All else is stale, mediocre cloth
You're always the doona for me.

Doona, oh sweet, sweet doona
Hug me under the light of the moon-a
Don't ****** me from afar
Spread-eagled in my room-a.

Itch those *****, player
Itch them red raw
Bleeding?, who cares!
Embrace your oozy pores
Itchy itchy morning rise
Scratchy scratchy nights
Give me a show I'd like to forget
Make me close up tight
Itch those *****, giant manchild
Itch them to completion
Whatever you got to do, do
During itchy and scratchy season

Come one, come all,
With all your **** nonsense
Shed those serious souls
And serial brawls
Engage in gravelly goodness.

Touch hither soft lemony lightness
And ruminate on he said/she said
Like severed fingers in brine
Que appropriate melancholy rhyme

Like Lord Paragon of Virtue
With or withered will
Atop his freshly bejeweled spire
Delights to set the world on fire.