Helen of Fowey

Got me tanktop with the budgie front, party on at Vinny's
Oxford bags, so I looked a cunt, but the party's nearly finished
Nowt to drink but Noilly Prat, Babycham or Snowball
Nowt to shag but something fat on holiday from Cornwall
The face that lunched on a thousand chips
Seventeen hairs in the wart on her bottom lip
But I knew I had to give it a shag, or she'd go home thinking I'm a screaming handbag.
Didn't know which way up she was, I said: 'Fart and give us a clue, love.'
She said back at hers she had some beer, 'and a bottle of Clandew, love.'
I got dead pissed, she looked quite fit, she looked like someone famous,
I fumbled about, but my aim was out, I stuffed it up her anus
She picked her arse as she lay bare, digging out the bits of bogroll in her anal hair
I knew I had to give it a shag, now she'll go home thinking I'm a screaming handbag

Got out of bed to have a piss, and something really shocked us,
A yellow growth on my bell end, I legged it down the doctor's
This is what you get when you tunnel test, its yellow and deformed;
But it wasn't clap, or owt like that, but a fucking piece of sweetcorn



N.B.- 'Fowey' - a town in Cornwall, and rhymes with 'Troy'- now that's lucky isn't it?
        'Clandew' - cheap, watered-down whisky
        'Noilly Prat'- see also: Campari, Dubonnet, Stone's Ginger Ale, etc:-
There is a theory that there is only one bottle of each of these vile liquids in existence.
They are deposited in the debris of parties in the early hours by naughty elves.