Down on the corner of Scattesby Way
There's a quaint little house without much to say
For outside its walls there's no story to tell
But enter inside and witness its [bad word] Once [bad word] in things soon [bad word] clear
there's something quite wrong, though there's nothing to fear
The father is harmless or rather I should say
Legless, depressed and in a state of decay
His phantom limbs dangle awkwardly down
Never quite able to reach the ground
And his smile has faded, long wiped from his face
From the day that he descended from grace
Or more so the day fate descended on him
In a workplace accident that was really... quite grim
But Oh! The doorbell, a friend [bad word] round!
"I'll get it" he screamed as his face hit the ground
So sad that outsiders were rarely seen
Though heard they were saying things ... obscene
(oh Marge ... you've got legs like celery!)
"God [bad word] it woman! I know what you're at!"
"I wish I had friends like that..."
For the poor little boy had problems at school
Concentration an issue, always playing the fool
He never did seem to get along with his peers
Although his antics always resulted in cheers
"You're a loser! I hate you! Go die in a hole!"
"Yeah... that's right, and your mum's a mole!"
So as all the children disappeared back to class
He fell to his knees, his face in the grass
He couldn't resist for the urge was too great
He had to slip out his tongue and give it a taste
And from that moment forward he never looked back
For the taste that he craved was the flavour of [bad word] His interest in bog was shared by his dog
His affair with scat, was shared by his cat
So he hid in his room to indulge in his craving
Free from his family's incessant raving
"I swear, eating's like a constant cycle with you!"
Little did she know, that it was [bad word] The following day on the way to school
Our little hero found a hobo in poo
He built up his courage and out loud he said,
"Excuse me dear sir, will you be my friend?"
Unfortunately for him, the junkie was dead
And covered in faeces from his toes to his head
"Oh dear!" he exclaimed, "What should I do?"
"... perhaps I should taste his unsavoury brew..."
Down on one knee he scraped with his finger
Put his hand to his lips and let the taste linger
"This is the most fantastic thing I've ever tasted,
Not a single drop shall ever go wasted"
The junkie's excrement had quite an effect
As he went for a ride no one would expect
To a land of rainbows, of love, and respect
An entire world where everyone was his friend
And here inside this magical place
no one [bad word] when he would feed his face
"You're the best friend a boy could ever wish for"