I ain’t got no intimate, ain’t got no stiletto heels
Ain’t got no Lsd, ain’t got no smack
Ain’t got no partners, ain’t got no drill
Ain’t got no slapstick, ain’t got no hanky—panky
Ain’t got no Lsd, no slot to mount

Ain’t got no castrato, ain’t got no crumpet
Ain’t got no conjoined twins, ain’t got no nuns or eunuchs
Ain’t got no whipcord, ain’t got no adoration
Ain’t got no *******, ain’t got no stimulant
Ain’t got no ******

Ain’t got no oscillation, no shags
No uniform, no parts
No smack, no drill
No partners, no peccadillo
Ain’t got no stimulant

Ain’t got no whipcord, no propagators
No titbits, no intimate
I jabbered, I ain’t got no uniform, no hanky—panky
No peccadillo, ain’t copulated till one is blue in the face to have a funny feeling
And I ain’t got no ******

Oh, but what have I copulated, oh, what have I copulated
Let me tell what I copulated and nobody’s going to enlarge telescopic

I got my ***** on my face
My extra—sensory perceptions, my knobs
My ******, peckers and my *******
I got my stuck—out tongue

I got my tentacle, my proboscis
My *****, my *******
My thingummies, my cockles of the heart and my posterior
I got my *******

I got my thingummies, my talons
My ball and socket joints, my forelegs
My hooves, my pincers and my snorker
Got my crest

I got *****, I’ve inseminated cheerleaders
I’ve got bottomgremlins and hacksawhoodoo
And Mephistophelian juggernauts too like you

I got my *****, my pistil
My ESP, my knobs
My vaginas, my peckers and my *******
I got my stuck-out tongue

I got my tentacle, my proboscis
My ***** and my *******
My *****, my ***** and my posterior
I inseminated my ****** sorbet

I got my thingummies, my talons
My ball and socket joints, my forelegs
My hooves, my pincers and my snorker
Got my crest

I got my *****, I got my slipperiness, my *****
I got *****

Lots of ladies there may be, but I haven't had that many
My **** is always active, and I think I would have any
In the past I could have been, just a bit too picky
The art of wanking I did try, but that left my pants all sticky

Some nice **** I would love, or an **** or three
The fairer *** is preferable, cos there's nothing strange about me
It really doesn't seem that fare, when there are many slags
And lots of ugly fat ******, that say they all want shags

But I can not locate any, I wish there was a way
That I could find a nice gal, and not someone that is gay
Nothing against the Lezzers, I'm just not that way inclined
But I'm fed up with wanking, and I don't want to go blind

I would ***** an old gal, with a big fat rounded ****
A squeezable amount of flesh, inside an **** ****
Big fat ****** are welcome, who want it up their bucket
I would like **** your ****, and I'd really love to **** it

An **** I could really try, if only the girls would
******* lots of ***** *****, that could be quite good
A large obese girl I would ****, with lots of rolls of fat
I'd stuff my **** inside there ****, cos there's nothing wrong with that

Ideal worlds would be good, if you could **** the girls you like
But I will settle for a *****, or a well used ridden bike
Even in a ******* they could be a real good ****
If *****'s are full of *****, I'd still **** your *** filled bag

Maybe I could find an old gal who is a real life *****
I would just think so what, and **** her well used *****
After I have loosened up, her tight old ******* hole
I could have a tighter ****, with her **** upon my pole

******* the ladies *******, this is always such a dream
Arses will be filled up, and the cat would get the cream
If you want to get ******, and you find any of this thrilling
Get your ***** and arseholes out, ready for a creamy filling

Come on all you fat slags, I'd like to see you naked
And even you wrinkly old bags, to me nothing is sacred
Your ***** cats are required, and your arses are inclined
Fat slags and old bags are still quite hard to find

in a room filled with the music, it's hard to say what
the emotional intensity change feels like when the headphones
are in, next on the menu:
camel's masterpiece - another night -
from the album moonmadness -
and here, what Islam ought to be
kindred to: conscious r.e.m. akin
to epilepsy - and no pagan in sight -
the approaching October with
his Octavian prose of shrugged shoulders -
and an article about gender-neutrality
and fleabag - 2nd year at Edinburgh
is was all about skipping the late afternoon
tutorial, doing the shopping
and foraging on Last.fm... for the next
progressive rock-band...
hence camel, hence spirit, and many others...
a new mode of basking in the sun for a tan...
what you're thinking -
bad question... i don't want to know...
as all pubescent conversations go... that's
the one question you cite as: minus 100 points,
on a tally of 300... the end,
hello Tolstoy. so that's me,
camel's moon-madness album,
an opinion section about gentrification,
and how your genitals never bubbled into your
'ed, because it was not necessarily minded
before ******* took over...
so gender neutral... awe at the power of science...
they could have got 19 pence anti-cancer pills...
but H.I.V. was more important...
yep, never did ****... and don't intend to
join the feminism of: let's do ****, and stop
those ******* leaving us barren and destitute in
their funny guy shags guy...
if that ain't a woman thing (doing ****)
to discourage men from doing men...
i know why the majority of bachelors under
the Octavian rule of thumb would be
pressed grapes and end up as wine...
hands up: just saying... i plead guilty...
and the art of dialectics left to its own
devices produces this... no point to hook-up onto...
less agreed on and even less argued against...
dialectics like a derelict house for you:
shaky Stevens with the knees... PRAY!
there's the church, and there's the holy ghost,
who's never to be a personified,
ugly nuns praying for alcoholics...
and if there was a more successful brothel scheme
than the nuns of the Vatican... please let me know.
lying and being angelic faced: if ever
there was a bigger turnoff than that,
i'd be banking on that 'um.
so there's camel and the fleabag sitcom -
        there's also a.... burp... and that too including
something else...
                            you know... Poland seems
like a rather sane place to be a child... well, that's
1986 through to 1994 -
                     a sane place...
                                          a sane place being raised
by you grandparents -
                                   because your parents
were establishing a new lie in England and were
away...
                  a pretty sane place...
        whatever the western world is selling: i'm not buying...
you never know, it might just be malaria...
                     as a propaganda composition to
    seek out personal benefit?
   no... like looking for an honest man is as hard
as looking for god (Diogenes and the lamp debacle
in the marketplace, later understood as pure Nietzsche,
n'ah ah)...                    i keep thinking about
my childhood because that's the period where things
were sane... getting exposed to western ideas just
bred more ******-doodle-do than i'd care to say,
or Snowden and that guy who found North Korean a haven,
so much for press-freedom... at least you
can spot the dictators, the magic mushroom people
running the so-called "free media" are tyrannical moguls
who want their faces printed in tabloid papers as if
tabloids meant mirror...             at least people
want to assassinate tyrants... no one seems to give a toss
about these Eton Boys' Club Furore:
bow down to the messiahs! comparatively enough
zeros (000000000000000) on your cheque, is like
                 inches in the length and girth of your
one-night-stand capabilities.

Ant people is what they are
    teeth clattering together
        out-coming  syllables of
        insensitive, insufferable nonsense
  Pinchers cleaning after a feed
Some revolting alien dialect

Smash them, then
        into the gravel
        back to the maze-caves of the Underworld
             the holes from which they jitter and twitch
  but then pause to stretch cold joints
    long, black armor-limbs
    blink blank eyes upon the new sun's light

They too bask in its rays, like I
        awakening the mind for another grind
        warming sleepy muscles to pursue crumbs of bread
Like I

So smash, no
        let them crunch and spit out uselessness
Just play instead an in-head voice-over
        a compilation of wonderer's revelations
Let them crawl, let them be
        slowly exoskeletons shed to flesh
        antenna's recede to shags of brown
           framing lively eyes
           pupils recognized as Human
                       Humane

Words are intent
        should be meant as the sun
           beams to progress the colony as one
We are the same

I want to meet a lady and to get my **** well shown
Instead of being a ****** and tossing on my own.
With her lips around my shaft to make me ******* moan.
******* on my bell end like a dog with a big bone.
Polishing my helmet to a shiny glossy tone.
So come on girls fat or thin even glass gets blown.
Even if its an older lass or any big fat slags
An old lady with a trolley or one with shopping bags.
A huge woman with hippo thighs a fat **** that ******* drags.
Big juicy melons to **** on like two large fleshy gags
an ugly toothless ***** or any old *** hags
So lets be fair and **** like ***** even smokers get the shags.
even if your homeless then we can surely meet.
And you have smelly clothing your in for a good treat.
I will get my **** out so you can ******* meat.
I'll ******* in an alleyway so we can be discrete.
I will *** inside your **** so you will feel the heat.
But It really comes something when you can have a *** out in the street.
If you want a bit of sparkle then its your **** i will sup.
And your *** is good then we'll definitely Hookup.
I'll release your big ***** from there double D size Cup
Licking on your cherrys just like a little pup.
I'll **** them like a lolly pop a sweet chuppa chupp.
If you want to have ******* then we'll have a 7up.

last night i went to the beach.
it was four degrees and i was shaking like the waves,
herons and pied shags darted overhead,
their long necks stretching out against the lavender sky.
my two friends were laughing at my sides, carefree,
i watched them snapping their heads back, chests expanding,
their glee echoing off the upturned sand,
my own joy echoing from my heart.

If I get up the crack of dawn, it's cos my cockerel crows
Egg yoke running over me, starts sliding down my nose
When dawn breaks problems arise, my appetite just grows
My old pan is getting hot, oil's dripping on my toes

So I will toss my sausage, but that's only when dawn goes
I've always got the taste for it, that's when my sausage shows
Salty bacon tasty fat, some highs but mainly lows
Juicy fruits already squeezed, I love the way it flows

I like to smell the coffee, but I'd rather have the cream
The taste of it upon my tongue, is really quite supreme
Old sweet sugar's what I need, it makes me smile and scream
Pure delight and ecstasy, mixed in with kettle steam

I can wet the whistle, cos this will make it gleam
After I've had bacon, I'll go down on the stream
My hot sausage shriveled up, I'm in need of a redeem
Weakened prospects I don't want, splitting at the seam

My **** is a reclusive, and he's hardly fully grown
A lady hen is what I need, to get my **** well shown
She can do the laying, cos I'd like to hear her moan
Instead of omelettes sticking, and tossing on my own

Riding bikes is so much fun, my helmet is on loan
My bell ends always ringing, polished to a shinny tone
All the dogs are in the park, their ******* on my bone
Bottles my get broken, but at least the glass gets blown

Residues left over, a deposit from a heap of slags
Why don't you recycle, it's good to use old bags
Old Cronies or witch women, are they really ugly hags
Donkeys hung may just be fine, a huge *** often drags

I'm ******* on my melons, there juicy big large gags
Bunt cigarettes don't seem fair, because smokers get the shags
Do you feel a little horse, or is it a bunch of nags
Is your clothing fashionable, or are you wearing rags

I'm sorry if your homeless, you can have some of my meat
Raw and smelly it could be, but your still in for a treat
Up your alley I would go, but that's only if it's neat
It really comes to something, having a *** out on the street

You can swallow my whole whopper, but this isn't no mean feat
I'm hoping for your doughnut, cos the jams so good to eat
If you want my hot sauce, then you'll have to feel the heat
But we don't want coppers truncheons, swinging on our beat

Sparkling sensations are achieved, it's your warm champagne I'll sup
If I'm caught enjoying it, then we can definitely Hookup
Releasing your bazookas, when your drinking from my cup
I would lick your cherries, just like a little pup
You can **** my lollipop, a sweet tasting chupa chup
And if your wanting group activities, we can have a 7up

That’s the way love goes; splitting, chilling,
feeling frail, stale, failed, tattooed tears
trickling down my face as I stared at your
stained image in the picture frame, your
smoky eyes telling stories of scarred history,
tightened cheeks flushed with dead beats,
thick lips filled with dangerous designs,
unlovely dimensions diverging towards
nothingness.  And as I rubbed the surface
of the dusty glass, embracing the monstrous
music moving through my flesh, steel gray
adjectives burning in broken stages, jagged
diction surfacing your inglorious invention,
flawed fingers whitened and yellowed down
to disturbed images, drunken eyes painting
a vivid picture of volcanic mountains waiting
to explode at any given time, my horizon was
all blood-scrawled and dripping dizzy consonants
around the empty clouds.  The beginning was
a bitchless existence slitting my throat, taking me
into amber domains, raining pain upon
my exterior, splintering my knuckles,
******* the life within me as I tried
to catch my breath, the ****** causing
me to fall beneath the cracks of broken-down
shags, crawling helplessly on the wobbly
floor as I watched you pour filthy liquor
all over my soiled skin – my hair drowning
in the air, scratchy hands sinking,
the conclusion coming to a closing,
my sullied existence floating in the vast oceans.