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Fuckers And Suckers

An angry young man I once met
Living rough in some unknown gutter-mess;
He was rapidly deteriorating to a no-return state,
So pity took hold of my heart
And bade me to help him out from his waste.

So I sat beside him in the foul place
And bade him to tell me his sad tale;
But he looked at me with a caution glance
And shook his head in disgust and contempt.

‘Fuckers! Go fuck the whores of the third world
And leave me alone with my raw deals;
They would not mind I’m sure for millions you have given them
To fatten their boobs and bodies.’

I would not listen to such fouls words,
So onto my feet I stood up to leave,
But he got hold of my coat’s collars
And towards his stinking face he drew me.
‘Wooho! Not too fast Fucker,’ he said.
‘You’re going to listen to what I am going to say’
And pulling out a six-inch Swiss blade
He continued, ‘Back up your shitting dogs over that hedge,
Or fucker my face will be the last one you’ll ever see!’

‘Fucker,’ he said, ‘you think we are swines:
Lazy, irresponsible and looking for easy ways;
Well, it’s the other way round, you clowns;
We’d wearied out our flesh for shitters like you fuckers,
And what do we get, eh; what do we get you bloody bastards!

You think you’re a clever little fucker with you sweet-talking 
                                                          and personal appearance,