VERY OBSCENE
The Ballad of Eskimo Nell
Gather 'round, all you whorey,
Gather 'round, and hear my story.
When a man grows old and his balls grow cold,
And the tip of his prick turns blue;
When it bends in the middle like a one-string fiddle,
He can tell you a tale or two.
So pull up a chair and stand me a drink,
And a tale to you I'll tell
About Dead-
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