A comely wench o' twenty three
from yonder village banburee,
alight her sight on poor auld me,
a poorly man wi' one bad knee,

She buxom be enough fer three,
her legs be thick as big oak tree,
but contrary to crippled me,
she sprightly be wi' two good knee.

As I took flight on that fateful night
from rutting comely wench,
I felt a pain, a twist, a strain,
and a gutting Rumley Wrench!
yon knee was spent
wi’ geat lament, she's upon me in a jiffy,
she made it clear, she said, “m’dear
I want yer little stiffy”

Now twenty three ‘tis not in years,
but sire, tis stones in weight,
and 'er on me wi one good knee
be too dire to contemplate,
but to my surprise, she got a rise
outa my little wrinkled pecker,
wi’ her big thighs and arse the size
o’ a Bleedin Double Decker!!

Obi.