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In days of old…

In day of old, when knights were bold
And paper not invented,
They used tufts of grass to wipe their ass
And were very well contented.

In the days of old when knights were bold
And women weren’t particular
They lined them up against the wall
And fucked them perpendicular.

In days of old, when men were bold
And cast-iron trousers wore,
They lived in peace, for then a crease
Would last ten years or more.

In days of old, when men were bold
And toilets weren’t invented,
They laid their loads upon the roads
And walked away contented.

In days of old when knights were bold
and condoms weren’t invented.
They tied a sock, around their c*ck
and babies were prevented.

In Days of old when knights were bold
And toilets weren’t invented
Men dropped their load upon the road
And walked away contented.

In the days of old, when the knights were bold
and the women chased the men
The men like fools got out their tools
and chased them back again.

In days of old when knights were bold,
And cared not for such trifles,
They nailed their balls upon the walls,
and shot at them with rifles.

In days of old when knights were bold
And penicillin wasn’t invented,
Venereal drips ran down from their hips
And their toes were all cemented.

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If the ocean was vodka…

If the ocean was vodka
And I was a duck
I’d swim to the bottom
and drink it all up
But since the ocean isn’t vodka
and I’m not a duck
Pass the Bottle
and let’s get f*cked up!

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TOAST TO THOSE THAT FLY…

TOAST TO THOSE THAT FLY

We loop in the purple twilight
We spin in the silver dawn
With black smoke trailing behind us
To show where our comrades have gone

So stand with your glasses steady
This world is a world of lies
We’ll drink to those who are living
And hurrah for the next man to die!

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Now here’s to the moment’s we’ve stolen…

Now here’s to the moment’s we’ve stolen,
Now stealing you know is wrong,
But after we’ve stolen these moments,
Just to whom do these moments belong?
Now if a man has a bushel of apples
And he willfully lets them rot,
And someone came along and stole them
Would you blame him—why certainly not.

Because apples were meant to be eaten,
And moments were meant for delight,
And that’s just what we’ll tell our conscience
Dear—if it bothers us—AFTER TONIGHT—