The Wolfman has crabs.
The Crabman has molluscs.
Peter Pan's found these weird
Downy hairs on his bollocks.
An imp in a gimp mask
Cannot cross his legs -
The stench from his trenchcoat
Is like rotten eggs.
One client's a giant,
His dick like a totem;
He's sick of the family
Of mice in his scrotum.
The air thrums with fairies
Half-dead from cystitis.
An oversexed troll's crotch
Is dripping with sprite pus.
It's eerie
And leery
And weary with sin -
If you're weird and you're reckless
You'd better come in.
Cos sex has come
To Make-Believe
And everybody's at it
With weeping cocks
And pelvic shocks
And pubes all grey and matted.
Yes, fucking's the new questing
It's made everyone a cynic
And they come to worship daily
At the FSTD Clinic.
A girl sits with her legs apart
All itchy-groined and threadbare
Name coined after her skin-flicks
Not the colour of her headwear.
The doctor gives it to her straight:
'Now then, Miss Riding Hood,
Your test results came back today¦
Afraid they're not too good.'
She sinks to ever baser depths
To satisfy the cameras.
(Her porn career began to wane
After One Night At Grandma's)
An unprotected spit-roasting
From two enormous dragons;
A gangbang with some hobbits
Where she licked their Bilbo Baggins
'Oooh! What big tentacles you have!'
She's giggled to Cthulu's wiggling mass.
'All the better to screw you with, m'dear '
Beginning with your ass!'
Sucking off satyrs and gobbling goblins
While greased-up pixies work her minge '
Movies so blue
They make Bluebeard cringe.
The doctor glances at her notes
And thinks he'd like to bang her.
Too bad his penis when erect's
The same size as a Clanger.
'Yes¦ your ATM with Satan's
Left a nasty yeast infection.
Best rub the problem area
With a senior priest's erection.'
Yeah, cos in the clinic waiting room
They don't care who's fellating whom
Or if you ride upon a broom
And suffer from a prolapsed womb.
And in the clinic's bleach-drenched halls
The stench of fear seeps through the walls
And wenches' tears form waterfalls
As stricken lords unclench their balls.
Godzilla's engorged gonads
Caused a fatal train derailment.
Rip Van Winkel
Has a painful penis ailment.
They say he gave up sleeping
Cos it ate up vital wanking time
Then tore his foreskin getting blowjobs
Off the Bride of Frankenstein.
A mummy king awaits a cure
For cursed acidic semen
While two dryads converse dryly
On the cons of fucking treemen:
It's no joke
When your bloke
Gets literal wood '
Freezing winters
Tweezing splinters
Out your clitoral hood.
There's a hermit with herpes
A harpy with thrush.
There's a zombie with genitals
Turning to mush.
There are hellspawn and shellborn
And snaggle-toothed freaks.
There's a knight with a lance
Jammed between his arse cheeks.
There's a sentient todger
A singing vagina
(She's sleeping around
Hoping someone 'll sign her)
There's elf kings and gelflings
And rotten-crotched ghouls
There are dogmen and boghens
And wisecracking mules.
There's a scent
Of hopeless apathy
Beneath the stink of leather
Cos when fucking came to Make-Believe
The magic left forever.
