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Your Stories Await Telling

Oinck Oinck

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Oh maiden of London once so fair

All noble peers did to thy virtues swear

perhaps of chastity, temperance and humility they not spoke

Yet about thy beauty, wit and sumptuousness they did croak

and thy banner they did bravely bear

at this revered suave court so baroque


Now what is left is but a wretch'd old hag

of whom no noble man dares to brag

Like a terrible stench from the Thames does she rise

drenching the city in her plaintive cries

Only the most loyal still carry her flag

now covered in mud and flies


It is the senseless mob who rules the day

following a simpleton Titus Oaf who led her astray

Speak they of killing babes and dark priests

conjured up tales of roaming beasts

attacking innocents in a frenzied fray

Bonfires to alight these feasts


The strange powers of persuasion

that such a Oafish pig did have upon the nation

rolling in the mud in his own excrement

merely playing upon the lowest sentiment

Its oink oink being the height of temptation

proving addictive to a city so decadent


Fair maiden, remember thyself before the fall

As in all good things this must end in a brawl

Come good people, chase the bacon through the street

Remember London of yore and allow her this deceit

Slaughter the piglet for his lard as old tales do recall

and feast upon this bacon banquette so sweet


Come, rise maiden of London, born again

while the mob feasts on the Oaf piglet slain

the beasts drinking wine and fucking their whores

for who cares what happens behind closed doors

Leave Catholics and Protestants to live without strain

Tempted no more by its oinking on England's shores


For beauty, sumptuousness and wit

is hence forth again the Royal writ


Was signed by Godiva.

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