foomandoonian

wales:

My hen laid a haddock, one hand oiled a flea,
Glad farts and centurions threw dogs in the sea,
I could stew a hare here and brandish Dan’s flan,
Don’s ruddy bog’s blocked up with sand.

Dad! Dad! Why don’t you oil Auntie Glad?
Can whores appear in beer bottle pies,
O butter the hens as they fly!