LITTLE LAMBS

The Caucasian angel's baby in the mud
waved his lust at some modern day James Last -
A hammy shyster from the memory bank,
who knew not whether to shit or shave
as messianic schoolboys flicked the V's
at his natural imbecilic charm

The Dog's Dinner and the Big Girl's Blouse,
with their souls enfeebled by love,
scanned 'Don't deprive the depraved'
daubed in faeces on their son's cell wall
but stayed in hock to the roasted duck;
After all it is nice to be nice
and bid thee feed by the stream & o'er the mead

"The 14 - 26 demographic
that would not give you the steam from it's piss
now wants a beginning, a middle and an end",
said some nonce to a Sir Anthony Blunt,
winnowing the new age of desire,
as he showed him the spit 'o' his hand.
His far from staunch deviant peer rejoined,
"Pass the bromide on the left hand side.
Aching knackers are no use at the bank
and I'm not out for chocolate, just for grapes"

Dost thou know who made thee?
Little lamb I'll tell thee
Dost thou know who made thee?
Little lamb, God bless thee

by Robert Lloyd, copyright control