Marty the seafaring Bishop
03/12/2004
Marty the awful bishop
clutched his looted ale
the wiskey all but dry
and the monkey without a tale
the ground sun beat down
like a drunkards fist to boot
unforutanly for this man
he could no longer do a poop
so on a sweltering summer noon
buy the sea on sandy beach
marty bent down with dogs
and this simple rhyme did he teach
'Let go of thee fears
and thy bsicuits shall come
wipe away those treacle tears
and not thy constipated bum
for summer has blessed us
wiht rain and humid days past
the crops are a flowering
but we just concerned with out arse
look out to the arabian sea
sailors cap purched on head
tears weeping from they eye
just like the prophit dogs had said
And with this final verse of ryhme
my stomach starts to rumble
at the sound of dogs biscuits cracking
I can feel my constipation crumble'
So on that heated tropical day
by the sandy beach of white
the captain shat his load
and on the biscuits the dogs did bite
