Balls to Your Partner

Chorus:
Balls to your partner, ass against the wall,
if you've never been laid on Saturday night,
you've never been laid at all.


Verses:
First lady forward, second lady back.
Third lady's finger up the fourth lady's crack.

The Queen was in the chamber, eating bread and honey,
the King was in the Chamber Maid, and she was in the money.

The village butcher he was there, the cleaver in his hand,
and every time he turned around he circumcised a man.

The village harlot she was there, she was having fits,
swinging from the chandeliers and bouncing off her tits.

Little Eric he was there, he was having fun,
swinging off the chandeliers and bouncing off his buns.

The village carpenter he was there, looking like a fool,
he brought his saw and he brought his hammer, but he forgot his tool.

The village mortician he was the, quite out of breath,
while fucking a stiff it farted and it scared him half to death.

Bobbing for apples his wife was, fun to screw around,
when the village idiot tried it, the stupid fucker drowned.

Little Eric he was there, he was only eight,
he couldn't have the women so he had to masturbate.

Willie Randle he was there, at the hot-dog stand,
a grin upon his face and a wiener in his hand.

Mrs. Randell she was there, sitting on a bed,
weaving prophylactics from a spool of rubber thread.

Four & twenty virgins came down from Inverness,
and when the ball was over, there were four & twenty less.

Four & twenty prostitutes came up from Glockamore,
and when the ball was over they were all of them double bored.

There was fucking in the hallway, fucking on the stairs,
you couldn't see the floor for the mass of pubic hairs.

There was fucking in the kitchen and fucking in the halls
you couldn't hear the music for the clanging of the balls.

Buxom hippie she was there, she was having fits,
she didn't wear her bra and kept stepping on her tits.

The village magician he was there, up to his usual tricks,
he pulled his foreskin over his head and disappeared up his prick.

The village idiot he was there sitting on a pole,
he pulled his foreskin over his head and whistled through the hole.

The village idiot he was there a-leaning on the gate,
he couldn't find a lassie so he had to flatulate.

The village cripple he was there, he wasn't up to much,
he lined them up against the wall and fucked them with his crutch.

The magician's daughter she was there, doing her favorite stunt,
She'd put her head between her legs and disappear up her cunt.

Little Eric he was there, what do you think about that?
Amusing himself by abusing himself and catching it in his hat.

The village economist he was there, pecker in his hand,
waiting for the moment when supply would meet demand.

The village prostitute she was there, lying on the floor,
Every time she spread her legs, the suction closed the door.

The village bride she was there, explaining to the groom,
The vagina not the rectum is the entrance to the womb.

The village blacksmith he was there, a mighty man was he,
he lined them up against the wall and fucked them three by three.

The fortune teller she was there, climbing up the walls,
he wanted a fuck but was out of luck for he had crystal balls.

A pregnant woman she was there, oh how her belly hung,
and everytime you ate her out a hand would grab your tongue.

The village smithy he was there, sitting by the fire,
doing abortions by the score with a piece of red hot wire.

There was fucking on the couches, fucking on the cots,
and lined up against the wall were rows of grinning twats.

Little Joseph he was there, the leader of the choir,
he kicked the boys in the balls to make their voices higher.

There was fucking in the fields, fucking in the oats,
We were fucking women but Bator was fucking goats.

Markie Edwards he was there, looking for some coin,
They found him in the bathroom sucking on my groin.

The village plumber he was there feeling like a fool,
he'd come eleven leagues or more but forgot to bring his tool.

The parson's daughter she was there the cunning little runt
with poison ivy up her ass and thistle up her cunt.

The village smithy he was there sitting by the fire,
doing abortions by the score with a piece of red hot wire.

The village doctor he was there he had his bag of tricks,
and in between the dances he was sterilizing pricks.

Little Richard he was there his prick was all alert,
but when the night was done 'twas dangling in the dirt.

The chimney sweep he was there they had to throw him out,
for every time he passed his wind the room was filled with soot.

The village postman he was there the poor man had the pox,
he couldn't fuck the lassies so he fucked the letterbox.

And when the ball was over everyone confessed,
they all enjoyed the dancing but the fucking was the best.