Fellatio Nelson

歌詞

Let me tell you about the worst blow job I ever had, (It was alright, actually, it wasn't that bad), If you just want the smeg licking off your bell end, There's a tart in Lancashire I'll recommend. She'll do it in the pub, you don't have to go to bed, She'll even put a beer towel on top of her head, And get a round in if you keep her well fed. Fellatio Nell, son, you won't like the smell, son, Gangrene and death come across in her breath, Fellatio Nell, son. I was watching the final on the TV, When the smell of a urinal wafted over to me, I thought of open sewers and unflushed bogs, But the smell of manure was coming out of her gob. Nobody's snogged her since '71, Coz her gob's always full of somebody's come, And there's seven types of d*** cheese under her tongue. Fellatio Nell, son, you won't like the smell, son, She'll gobble up your scrote and fit it down her throat, And that's a half nell, son. Running sores round her cakehole, but I took the chance, You can't see her face when its in your underpants, She's swallowed more foreskins than a Yid doctor's bucket, She sees a bulging crotch, she just has to suck it. Fellatio Nell, son. You won't like the smell, son, She can suck your bollock through the hole in your c***, And thats a full nell, son.