There once were three ladies of Birmingham.
Have you heard of the scandal concerning 'em?
They lifted the frock
and played with the cock
of the bishop--while he was confirming 'em!
Now the biship was nobody's fool.
(He was raised in a good public school!)
So he lowered his britches
and buggered those bitches
with his ten inch Episcopal tool!
Then a woman who was in the third pew
said something that made the biship turn blue:
"The vicar is quicker
and slicker and thicker
and longer and stronger than you!"
Here I sit, About to bust,
From wence my arse, came a floral gust.
A rare occurrence, I suppose.
From out my butt, the smell of rose.
I wasn't surprised, not one little bit.
Coz roses grow best, in piles of shit.
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