A Hearthside Conversation

A Hearthside Conversation

Where go you, my father? Good father, where now?
You pace by the door and you furrow your brow.
Good son, I go nowhere. I stay here with thee.
I thought I heard voices, and got up to see.

But father, sweet father, you smell of cologne.
Your bodkin is washed, and your moustache is combed.
You glance at your watch and you pull at your beard.
Where go you, my father? Why stay you not here?

Wee daughter of mine, why speak you this way?
I’ll soon go to sleep, for I’ve had a long day.
I’m not going out! I stay here instead.
Now please, my good children, repair you to bed.

Oh husband of mine, where go you, my love?
You’ve saddled the horse, and you’ve put on your gloves.
What business should take you away from our home?
Tell us, dear husband, what bids thee to roam?

God damn it to hell! If you must know the truth,
I’m off to the whorehouse to pump me a few.
I’m hard as a millstone, but what do you care?
You’ve not flashed that yam hole in over a year.

You notice the horse and my gloves and my watch,
But you don’t seem to notice this bulge in my crotch.
I s'pose it’s not worthy of mention from you.
Well screw it. I’m horny, and here’s what I’ll do:

I’ll grab me a whore and I’ll lift up her skirt
And I’ll pound that sweet meat till my testicles hurt.
I don’t care if she’s toothless, obese, or infected.
My poor little fatty’s been sadly neglected.

Get back here you bastards! You asked, so you’ll hear:
I’ll slam my good ham in the first derriere.
I’ve got buckets of chowder just waiting to fly.
I’ve never done anal. But I’m willing to try!

I might pleasure a lesbian. Or fondle a moose.
Or fist up a nun, till she’s sloppy and loose.
I’ll find me a milkmaid a-fillin' her pail-y,
And I'll bibble her lips with my beefy shillelagh.

I’ll find me a bumpkin, who’s stupid and dull,
And I’ll dick-knock the very last tooth from his skull.
I might ass-rape a quaker. Or cream-pie an elf.
And there’s things I might try when I’m all by myself.

I might put on a bodice and stroll by the docks.
And give ‘em a scare when I unleash my cock!
And if I get bored, why I’ll butter a midget,
Tickle his wink-hole, and watch how he fidgets!

I’m sick of this house. I’m sick of charades.
I’m sick of parchesi. I wanna get laid!
So screw you, I’m leaving this mirthless grey hut.
I shan’t be back soon, so please don’t wait up.