The lady of the manor was dressing for the ball,
When she spied the rugby tinker tossing off against the wall;
CHORUS:
With his bloody great kidney wiper,
And his balls the size of three,
And his yard and a half of foreskin,
Hanging down below his knee,
Hanging down, swinging free,
Oscillating merrily,
With his yard and a half of foreskin,
Hanging down below his knee.
She wrote to him a letter and in it she did say,
"I'd rather be shagged by you, sir, than his lordship anyday;"
CHORUS:
The tinker read the letter and when it he did read,
His balls began to fester and his prick began to bleed;
CHORUS:
He mounted on his charger and on it he did ride,
His prick across his saddle and a ball on either side;
CHORUS:
He rode into the courtyard and up into the hall,
"God save us" cried the valet, "he has come to fuck us all;"
CHORUS:
He fucked them in the kitchen and fucked them in the hall,
And the way he fucked the valet was the funniest fuck of all;
CHORUS:
The tinker fucked the mistress, in ten minutes she was dead,
With a yard and a half of foreskin firmly wrapped about her head;
CHORUS:
He rode out from the manor and out into the street,
With little drops of semen dripping down upon his feet;
CHORUS:
The tinker he is dead now and buried in St. Paul's,
It took a team of oxen just to drag away his balls;
CHORUS:
Some say he went to heaven, some say he went to hell,
Some say he fucked the devil and we know he fucked him well;
CHORUS:
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