Monday, 27 January 2014

The Perthshire Pissant



The Perthshire Pissant was his name,
And urination was his game,
He’s pissed more places than money can buy,
And he’ll piss in some more before we all die.

He’s pissed in more places than money can buy,
He’s pissed on the Castle, the London Eye,
He was pissed when he pissed on Buckingham Palace,
But not when he pissed in the Holy Chalice.

He pissed on King, he pissed on Milton,
He pissed on Ghandi and Peter Shilton,
He pissed up a wall and watched it run down,
He pissed on his dog and watched it drown.

Throughout every city in the nation,
He has pissed in every railway station,
And every bus driver that leaves the shop,
Can smell his piss before seeing the stop.

He pissed on the bins and up against trees,
He loved the sound of it running down eaves,
He pissed in doorways of office blocks,
He pissed off of the pier and into the docks.

He pissed on his Mum and pissed on his Dad
Who prayed that his pissing was only a fad,
He even pissed on his poor old Gran,
All over her head, then away he ran.

Yes, he pissed on his family and pissed on his friends,
Why the boy could even piss around bends,
He could piss on something and make it bounce off,
And hit something else before hitting the trough.

He pissed on the seat and he pissed on the floor,
But a bigger piss than ever before,
Where once you could walk, you now had to wade,
And the more he pissed, the more piss he made.

The more he pissed, the more he wanted to,
The bigger the stream, the more he’d brew,
His aim became to submerge the earth,
If he couldn’t do that,  he’d settle with Perth.

The Perthshire Pissant was his name,
And urination was his game,
He’s pissed more places than money can buy,
And he’ll piss in some more before we all die.