I\'m hopin i don\'t make a hash-of-it
I\'m often found writing a limerick
the clean ones come easy
but i know you want sleazy
sorry if they gets on yer tits-a-bit
now we\'ve got Boris elected
we hear the poor buggers infected
he\'s got it quite rough
and his gal\'s up the duff
no wonder he looks so dejected
at last i got my prescription
i curse that chemists dereliction
there\'s no little blue pills
that give her the thrills
wotever will i do for erection
for twelve weeks they said - stay at home
be creative whilst home - all alone
to try and outlast it
you might weave a basket
but i\'m reading a book - on the throne
do I have to take more of this
is the government taking the piss
forsaking all gatherings
they\'ve got me a slavvering
it\'s that pint down the pub that I miss
when mable had that jab for the flu
the air round her head turned quite blue
she screamed and she shrieked
all rosey red cheeked
cos we\'d seen her derriere tattoo
the lottery\'s the last of my chances
now corvids buggered all my finances
when your income is nil
one must bite the pill
i\'ll have to sell one of my ranches