The EMAWneers have hairy ears.
They piss through leather britches.
They pop their cocks on jagged rocks.
They're hardy sons of bitches.
Those EMAWneers, they give three cheers
For Hell and all its trifles.
They bang their balls upon the walls
And pepper them with rifles.
The EMAWneers, they're hung like steers.
They'll shag a yawning chasm.
They flop their nuts against their butts,
And shoot a mean orgasm.
The EMAWneers, they love their beers,
And quaff one every minute.
They drain their jocks in big stone crocks,
And wash their faces in it.
The EMAWneers, they shed no tears.
They're full of quips and frolics.
They poop foul gas from out their ass
To cool their iron bollocks.
Those EMAWneers can shift their gears
And crap in all directions.
They wipe their ass on broken glass
Or on their proud erections.
Those EMAWneers with hoots and jeers
Bewail a cun tless nation.
They jab their tools in army mules
In abandoned masturbation.
Those EMAWneers, they have no fears
Of crab-infested niches.
They scratch their pricks with sandy bricks
When annoyed by lousy itches.
Oh, EMAWneers have shaggy ears.
They diddle not with trifles.
They hang their balls on canyon walls
And shoot at them with rifles.
They pound their cocks upon the rocks,
Those hardy sons of bitches.
They wipe their ass with broken glass,
And care not if it itches.
When tail is rare, they rape the bear,
And tie her in half hitches,
Nor hesitate to masturbate
Within their leather britches.
They use their pricks for walking sticks
In crossing muddy ditches.
They shazbot! their wives with carving knives
And flog their teats with switches.
They brew their booze from boots and shoes,
A drink they seem to relish.
They shave their jaws with crosscut saws,
Which makes them look quite hellish.
They always throw their balls, you know,
At women and at babies.
They're full of snot and other rot
And covered o'er with scabies.
From dark till dawn with one bone on,
They shazbot! their clappy wenches.
From dawn till dark, they beat their bark
And screw knotholes in benches.
With limber tools they flail their mules
And warm their offsprings britches.
With stiffened cocks they pry up rocks
And boost Fords out of ditches.
The EMAW lass is full of pash.
They crack nuts in their snatches.
They love to screw an hour or two
Bare-ass in bramble patches.
The EMAW rat is boiling hot.
It covers pricks with blisters.
A stranger once tried lapping cun ts
And singed off all his whiskers.
Those hardy cun ts use double shunts
And mighty heaves and passes,
That pull the pricks off common hicks
And set them on their asses.
They ne'er despair when prick is rare,
But frig themselves with cactus,
Or mount a jack upon their back
Which gives them lots of practice.
