Leave Their Women Alone
They could slaughter you like a fowl
For their women you gave a scowl
Hurt parents met with priests to how!
"Vicar, in football, it's pure foul?"
Don't end up in their stew a fowl,
Your scowls yield the face of an owl;
It's your death with you cheek and jowl,
For your own mum was spared lewd scowl...
Yes, please, leave their women alone;
It has kept hurting every bone.
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