The following is more or less standard repertoire of hash songs compiled by Banana Condom for the Beijing Hash House Harriers. Please note that wit counts for everything when one is being bawdy. Crassness is not cool unless it can be justified by the wit involved.

(WARNING: Language and content may be offensive to some viewers)


PROCEDURAL SONGS

SHITTY TRAIL

[Introduce the hares] (Tune of the Mickey Mouse Club March)

S-H-I-T-T-Y T-R-A-I-L
Shitty trail (It sucked!),
Shitty trail (It was fucker!),
The motherfuckers laid a shitty trail.

I would rather drink a beer than hash a shitty trail,
S-H-I-T-T-Y T-R-A-I-L

THE BEIJING HASH SONG [Virgins / New Cummers] (Tune of Daisy Bell aka Bicycle Built for Two)

Beijing, Beijing, what a wonderful place to hash,
We have great fun dodging the shit and trash.
Our skies are never clear,
But we have cheaper beer.
We like our drinks,
Our singing stinks.
On-On with the Beijing Hash.

Beijing, Beijing, what a wonderful place to be,
Beidaihe’s quite close, a place just by the sea.
The runs are usually longgggg,
But always end in song.
Our singing stinks,
Let’s stick to drinks,
On-On with the Beijing Hash.

(Verse two origin: Beijing Obscene, September 1, 1996. Vol 1, Issue 700)

WHAT A WANK [Long Time No Sees song] (Tune of the William Tell Overture)

What a wank, what a wank, what a wank, wank, wank,
What a wank, what a wank, what a wank, wank, wank.
What a wank, what a wank, what a wank, wank, wank,
What a wank, wank, wank, wank.

THE HASHER SONG [Patches/Muggings/Namings]

He/She’s a hasher, he’s true blue,
He’s/She’s a hasher, through and through.
He’s/She’s an asshole, so they say,
Tried to go to heaven, but he went the other way.

THESE BOOTS ARE MADE FOR HASHING [New shoes song]

These boots are made for hashing,
And that’s just what they’ll do.
One of these days, these boots are gonna,
Hash all over you.

WHY ARE WE WAITING? [When the hash waits] (Tune of O Come Let Us Adore Him)

Why are we waiting?
Could by masturbating [fornicating, rollerblading, my grandma’s ovulating, etc.),
Oh, why are we waiting,
So fucking long?

BULLSHIT
(Tune of My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean)

Bullshit, bullshit,
It all sounds like bullshit to me, to me.
Bullshit, bullshit,
It all sounds like bullshit to me.

AND THE HARES OF HER DICKEY-DI-DO [When calling the hares in]

And the hares!
And the hares!
And the hares of her dickey-di-do,
Hung down to their knees.
One black one, one white one,
And one with a bit of shite on.
And one with a fairy light on,
To show is the way.

FUCK OFF, YOU WANK [FOYW] (Sung to Auld Lang Syne)

Fuck off, you wank, fuck off, you wank,
Fuck off, you wank, fuck off.
Fuck off, you wank, fuck off, you wank,
Fuck off, you wank, fuck off.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY (FUCK YOU) [Birthday song] (Tune of Happy Birthday To You)

Happy birthday, fuck you,
Happy birthday, fuck you,
Happy birthday, you asshole,
Happy birthday, fuck you.

BIRTHDAY DIRGE [Alternate birthday song]

Happy birthday [thump],
Oh, happy birthday [thump].
People dying everywhere,
Sickness, sorrow, and despair.
On your birthday [thump],
Oh, happy birthday [thump].
One day closer to death!


DOWN DOWN SONGS

5-4-3-2-1

5-4-3-2-1, on your head!

THE CLAP SONG [When hasher can’t drink beer]

He’s got the clap again,
He really must refrain,
From Maggie’s Bar,
And screwing Mongol hordes (hordes, hordes, hordes).
He’s got the pills to use,
He must lay off the booze,
He’s got the clap,
Oh yes, he’s got the clap.

DOUGH, RAY, ME
(Tune of Do-Re-Mi)

Dough, the stuff that buys me beer,
Ray, the guy who brings me beer.
Me, the guy who drinks the beer,
Fa(r), a long long way to beer.
So, I’ll have another beer,
La(ugh), and have another beer.
Tea, no thanks I’ll have a beer,
And that brings us back to,
D’oh! D’oh!, D’oh! Do’h!

THE DOWN-DOWN SONG

This is a down-down song,
It’s not very long.

THE FORESKIN SONG [When 4 hashers in circle]

My one skin hangs down to my two skin,
My two skin hangs down to my three (my three).
My three skin hangs down to my foreskin,
My foreskin hangs down to my knee.
Roll back, roll back,
Oh, roll back my foreskin for me, for me.
Roll back, roll back,
Oh, roll back my foreskin for me.

HERE’S TO BROTHER/SISTER HASHER [May be sung to visitors, or whenever] (Tune of: The More We Get Together)

Here’s to brother hasher, brother hasher, brother hasher,
Oh, here’s to brother hasher, he’s with us today.
He’s happy, he’s jolly,
HE’S FUCKED UP, BY GOLLY!
Oh, here’s to brother hasher, he’s with us today.
So drink motherfucker, drink motherfucker,
Drink motherfucker, drink motherfucker.
Here’s to brother hasher, he’s with us today.

I LIKE BEER
(Tune of Three Blind Mice)

I like beer, I like beer,
I like beer, I like beer,
Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do,
Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do.
It like beer, I like beer.

IF YOUR GIRL/BOYFRIEND TASTES LIKE SHIT
(Tune of If You’re Happy and You Know It, Clap Your Hands)

If your girlfriend tastes like shit, turn her over,
If your girlfriend tastes like shit, turn her over.
If your girlfriend tastes like shit,
That’s her asshole, not her clit.

If your girlfriend tastes like shit, turn her over.
If your boyfriend tastes like shit, turn him over,
If your boyfriend tastes like shit, turn him over.
If your boyfriend tastes like shit,
That’s his asshole, not his dick.
If your boyfriend tastes like shit, turn him over.

IT’S A SMALL DICK AFTER ALL
(Tune of It’s a Small World After All)

Well, it’s not too hard, and it’s not too thick,
It gets hard too slow, and it comes too quick.
It gets lost in her twat,
But it’s all that he’s got.
It’s a small dick after all.
It’s a small dick after all,
It’s a small dick after all,
It’s a small dick after all,
It’s a small, small dick.

MEET THE HASHERS
(Tune of Meet the Flintstones)

Hashers, meet the hashers,
They’re the biggest drunks in history.
From the town of Beijing,
They’re leaders in debauchery.
Half-minds, trailing shiggy through the years,
Watch them, as they drink a lot of beers,
Down down, down down down down,
Down down down down down down down down down.

LET’S GO DOWN TO THE RIVER
(Tune of For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow)

They’re tearing down the hash bar.
But, they’re building a new one.

The pub’s only got one bar,
But, it’s 100 meters long.

The bartenders won’t be selling beer,
They’ll be giving it away.

The bar girls all wear iron panties,
But, they give you a can opener at the door.

They’re draining the river,
But, they’re gonna fill it with beer.

Let’s go down to the river,
Let’s go down to the river,

Let’s go down to the river,
And drink the bastard dry.

And drink the bastard dry,
And drink the bastard dry,

Let’s go down to the river,
And drink the bastard dry.

PUT YOUR LEFT LEG OVER MY SHOULDER
(Tune of For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow)

Put your left leg over my shoulder,
Put your right leg over my shoulder;

(wag tongue)

La la la la la la la la la,
La la la la la la la la la.

Put your left tit over my shoulder,
Put your right tit over my shoulder;

(wag tongue)

La la la la la la la la la,
La la la la la la la la la

SANLITUN BAR SONG
(Tune of My Bonnie Lies over the Ocean)

They ought to be publicly shat on,
They ought to be publicly shot (bang, bang!).
They ought to be tied to a Sanlitun shithouse,
And left there to bloody well rot!

SHE’S/HE’S ALL RIGHT

For harriets:

She’s all right,
She’s all right,
She’s a little flat-chested,
But she’s all right.

For well-endowed harriets

She’s all right,
She’s all right,
She’s got a great big rack,
But she’s too white.

For hashers

He’s all right,
He’s all right,
He’s got a teeny-weeny dick,
But he’s all right.

SUCK SWALLOW
(Rubber Chicken Song)

Suck, swallow.
Suck, swallow…

WHY WAS SHE BORN SO BEAUTIFUL?

Why was she born so beautiful?
Why was she born at all?
She’s no fucking use to anyone,
She’s no fucking use at all.
She may be a joy to her mother,
But she’s a pain in the ass just for us.

ZULU WARRIOR

A lay zooma zooma zooma,
A lay zooma zooma, hey!
A lay zooma zooma zooma,
A lay zooma zooma, hey!
Drink it down, you Zulu warrior,
Drink it down, you Zulu chief, chief, chief!


NATIONAL ANTHEMS

LATIN-AMERICAN DOWN SONG (Dazed & Confused Special)

Porque a penas estamos comenzando la fiesta,
Porque apenas estamos comenzando a beber, 
Porque el que bebe se emborracha , 
el que se emborracha , se duerme, 
el que se duerme , no peca, 
el que no peca, va al cielo, 
y Porque al cielo vamos… 
beba, beba, bebamos… 
hasta que perezcamos 
y cuando perezcamos volvamos a beber!! 

Arriba la Virgen del Carmen.. 
Abajo Satanás.. viejo hijueputa y si se emputa que se empute por hijueputa! 
a un lado
al otro
Al centro!
Al sexo, al sexo, al sexo…
Pa dentro!

[Short Version]

Arriba!
Abajo!
Izquierda!
Derecha!
Al centro!
Al sexo, al sexo, al sexo…
Pa dentro!

PISSONYA

Pissonya, pissonya, pissonya
In Russian it means I love you
If I had my way I’d piss on ya all day
Pissonya, pissonya, pissonya

Shitonya, shitonya, shitonya
In Russian it means I adore you
If I had my way I’d shit on ya all day
Shitonya, shitonya, shitonya

Cumonya, cumonya, cumonya
In Russian it means I need you
If I had my way I’d cum on ya all day
Cumonya, Shitonya, Pissonya

ALL AUSTRALIANS ARE BORN ILLEGITIMATE [Aussie National Anthem](Tune of The Old Gray Mare)

All Australians are born illegitimate,
Born illegitimate,
Born illegitimate,
All Australians are born illegitimate,
Bastards through and through.

They ain’t got no, birth certificates,
Birth certificates,
Birth certificates.
They ain’t got no, birth certificates,
Bastards through and through.

 

BRITISH SAILOR SONG
(Asian tune)

Me no likey British sailor
Yankee pay 5 dollars more

Yankee tapping on my window
British breaking down the door

Yankee takes my clothes off slowly
British rip them to the floor

Yankee make love to me slowly
British rape me like a whore

Me no likey British sailor
Yankee pay 5 dollars more

 

BESTIALITY’S BEST BOYS [Kiwi National Anthem]
(Tune of Tie My Kangaroo Down, Sport)

Bestiality’s best, boys,
Bestiality’s best. (Fuck a wallaby!)
Bestiality’s best, boys,
Bestiality’s best. (Fuck a wallaby!)

RULE, BRITANNIA! [Pom National Anthem] (Tune of Rule, Britannia!)

Rule, Britannia,
Marmalade and jam.
Five Chinese crackers up your asshole,
Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam.

AMERICA, FUCK YEAH! [Yank National Anthem]

America, fuck yeah!
Coming again to save the motherfucking day, yeah!
America, fuck yeah!
Freedom is the only way, yeah!
Terrorists, your game is through,
‘Cause now you’ll have to answer to,
America, fuck yeah!
So suck me dick and lick on my balls!

 


OTHER OCCASIONS

HEAD! [Whenever anybody says HEAD]

Head?
Who said head?
I’ll have some of that!
And I did,
And it was good!
And there was much rejoicing.
And then we fucked,
We fucked for hours, uprooting trees and flowers.
We fucked like Vikings with horns on our heads.
Head?
Who said head?
I’ll have some of that!
We don’t want women with good taste,
We want women that taste good!

Alternate verse:

And then she licked my ass,
And I quivered.
But it wasn’t fun,
And it wasn’t funny.
It was dangerous!
So I’m taking my wife, my dog, and my hash shoes,
And I’m going home!
Fuck you, you fucking fucks…

INTERNATIONAL HASH HYMN
(Tune of Swing Low, Sweet Chariot)

Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot.
Coming for to carry me home.
I looked over Jordan, and what did I see,
Coming for to carry me home?
A band of angels coming after me,
Coming for to carry me home.
If you get there before I do,
Coming for to carry me home.
Tell all my friends, I’m coming too,
Coming for the carry me home.

(repeat with variations: tongue out, humming, silent, disco, etc.)

SINGING IN THE RAIN
(Tune of Singing in the Rain)

I’m singing in the rain,
Just singing in the rain.
What a glorious feeling,
I’m happy again.

(Arms out! Thumbs up! Elbows in! Knees together! Butt out! Head back! Tongue out!)


SEASONAL PERVERSITY

THE TWELVE DAYS OF HASHING (By Mini-Me and the Reverend Slackbladder)
(Tune of The Twelve Days of Christmas)

On the first day of hashing, my true love gave to me…
A pint of Yanjing Beer.
On the second day of hashing, my true love gave to me…
Two cunning hares, and a pint of Yanjing Beer.
On the third day . . . etc., etc.
A pint of Yanjing Beer (Chug a pint)
Two cunning hares (Make rabbit ears)
Three French guys (Hands up, surrender)
Four Maggie’s Whores (One big hole with your hands)
Five Tsingtaos (Chug Tsingtaos)
Six Sexy Harriets (Girls wiggle, bounce up and down)
Seven Teflon Dick muggins (TD to scream)
Eight Dry Hole wrong turns (Spin around)
Nine dislocations (Either arm goes limp)
Ten D’s-a dating (Show lettuce being dipped in tea)
Eleven hashers humping (Hump!)
Twelve Hundred and Twelve Runs (Wahoo!)


ADDITIONS TO THE BJH3 REPETOIRE (Some old, some new)

BALLS TO MR. BANGELSTEIN
(Tune of The More We Get Together)

-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal”>Balls to Mr. Bangelstein, Bangelstein, Bangelstein,
Balls to Mr. Bangelstein, dirty old man.
He keeps us all waiting, while he’s masturbating,
So balls to Mr. Bangelstein, dirty old man.

BLESSING OF THE HARES

Bless these hares,
Bless this trail.
Coppus no catch us,
Farmer no shoot us,
Doggus no bite us,
Heatus no stroke us,
Plenty of cold beer to drink,
Coitus non interruptus.

FATHER BIRMINGHAM
(Good warm-up song)

Father Birmingham likes Altar Boys,
Altar boys like Father Birmingham.
‘Cause he makes ’em laugh (haha),
And he makes ’em cry (boo-hoo),
When he touches them in the rectory.
With the right finger!

(Jab right finger in time with the melody; add following lines and movements to the end of the verse as the song progresses)

With the left finger (Jab left finger out)
With the right toe (Kick right toe out)
With the left toe (Kick left toe out)
With an “AHH! MEN!” (Thrust butt backwards, then thrust pelvis forwards)
With the tongue out (Stick tongue out)

Final run of chorus, all motions included; end with: “AHH! MEN!”

THE HASH HOUSE HARRIERS
(Tune of the Adams Family Theme)

Their running is convulsive,
Their drinking is compulsive.
They’re morally repulsive,
The Hash House Harriers.

Chorus:

Duh-duh-duh-duh, (snap snap)
Duh-duh-duh-duh, (snap snap)
Duh-duh-duh-duh,
Duh-duh-duh-duh,
Duh-duh-duhduh. (snap snap)

Their flatulence is rude and,
Their genitals protrude when,
They’re running in the nude oh,
The Hash House Harriers.

They’re always shiggy tracking,
From constantly bushwacking.
Intelligence their lacking,
The Hash House Harriers.

O-R-G-Y

Give me an “O”!

Give me an “R”!

Give me a “G”!

Give me a “Y”!

What does that spell?

ORGY!

What does that take?
TEAMWORK!

OUR LAGER

Our lager,
Which art in barrels;
Hallowed be thy drink;
Thy will be drunk,
At home as it is in the tavern.
Give us this day our foamy head.
And forgive us our spillages,
As we forgive those who spill against us.
And lead us not into incarceration;
But deliver us from hangovers.
For thine is the Beer,
The Bitter, and the Lager,
Forever and ever.
On-on!

THE SOLDIER SONG

Asshole, asshole, a soldier I will be,
To piss, to piss, two pistols on my knee.
For cunt, for cunt, for country and for Queen,
Asshole, asshole, asshole, asshole, a soldier I will be.

TWENTY TOES

There’s a game called twenty toes,
It’s played all over town.
The women play with ten toes up,
The men with ten toes down, down, down, down….

WHIP IT OUT AT THE BALLGAME
(Tune of Take Me Out to the Ballgame)

Whip it out at the ballgame,
Wave it round at the crowd.
Dip it in peanuts and crackerjacks,
I don’t care if you give it a whack.
‘Cause it’s beat your meat at the ballgame,
If you don’t come, it’s a shame.
For it’s one, two, your covered in goo,
At the old ball game.

YOU’RE #1 (Short for down-downs)
(Tune of Na Na-na-na-na)

You’re not #5, ( hold up five fingers)
Not #4 (put down one finger)
#3 (put down one finger)
#2 (put down one finger)
You’re #1 (with only middle finger raised)


OLD AND FORGOTTEN HASH SONGS FROM THE ANNALS OF HASH HISTORY

DO YOUR BALLS HANG LOW?
(Tune of Do Your Ears Hang Low?)

Do your balls hang low?
Do they wobble to a fro?
Can you tie ’em in a knot?
Can you tie ’em in a bow?
*Can you throw ’em over your shoulder,
*Like a continental soldier?
Do your balls hang low?

CHORUS:

Ting-a-ling, God damn,
Find a woman if you can.
If you can’t find a woman,
Find a clean old man.
If your ever in Gibraltor,
Take a flying fuck at Walter.
Do you do a double shuffle,
When your balls hang low?

*Additional verses for measures 5 and 6:

Do they make a lusty clamor,
When you hit ’em with a hammer?
Can you bounce them off the wall,
Like a rubber Super Ball?
Do they have a hallow sound,
When you drag ’em o n the ground?
Do they have a metal tingle,
When you hit ’em with a shingle?
Do they have a salty taste,
When you wrap ’em round your waste?
Do they chime like a gong,
When you pull upon your dong?

DO YOUR TITS HANG LOW?
(Tune of Do Your Ears Hang Low)

Do your tits hang low?
Do they wobble to and fro?
Can you tie ’em in a knot?
Can you tie ’em in a bow?
Can you throw ’em over your shoulder?
Do they need a boulder holder?
Do your tits hang low?

Are your tits real small?
Are they flat just like a wall?
Can you find them with your hands?
Are they even there at all?
Would you look just like a male,
If it weren’t for your pigtails?
Are your tits real small?

Are your tits just right?
Are your blouses kind of tight?
If you had a disagreement,
Could you use ’em in a fight?
Do the boys throw fits,
When you flash ’em with your tits?
Are your tits just right?

Do your tits go squish,
When you poke them like this?
Do they feel just like,
A slimy jellyfish?
Does your man’s pecker stand,
When he holds them in his hand?
Do your tits go squish?

Are your tits real hard?
Could you use ’em as a guard?
Do your nipples poke through,
Your pink leotard?
When it’s wet and cold,
Do they stand out proud and bold?
Are your tits real hard?

Do your tits have hair?
Do people stop and stare,
When you wear a french braid,
Down to your underwear?
Do people think your breasts,
Look like your father’s chest?
Do your tits have hair?

Are your tits really real?
Did it take them long to heal?
Are the silicone,
Or saline filled?
Do the boys’ hearts race,
When you shake them in their face?
Are your tits really real?

If your tits are teeny weeny,
Or too big for your bikini,
No matter how they look,
And no matter how they feel,
Be glad that you got ’em,
‘Cause you know the boys all want ’em,
– Tits, tits, tits.

I DON’T WANT TO JOIN THE ARMY

I don’t want to join the army,
I don’t want to go to war.
I’d rather hang around the Picadilly (Beijing) Underground,
Living off the earnings of a high born lady…

I don’t want a bayonet up my asshole,
I don’t want my bollocks shot away.
I’d rather stay in Beijing,
In ruddy, bloody Beijing,
And fornicate me fucking life away, cor blimey,

Mondy I touched her on the ankle,
Tuesday I touched her on the knee;
On Wednesday much success, I lifted up her dress,
Thursday I saw it (gor blimey)…
Friday I put my hand upon it,
Saturday she gave me balls a tweak.
And on Sunday after supper, I rammed the bugger up her,
And now she wants it seven days a week.

JUNGLE SMELL
(Tune: Jingle Bells)

Jungle smell, jungle smell,
Shitty all the way.
Oh what fun it is to run,
Through the swamp on a Sunday.

Jungle smell, jungle smell,
Trailing all the way.
All those drunken S.C.B.’s,
Cursing the whole day.

ALLOUETE
(Tune Allouette)

Alouette, gentille Alouette,
Alouette, je te plumerai.

Has she got the curly hair?
Yes she’s got the curly hair.
Curly hair, curly hair, Oooh Allouette, etc.

Has she got the bushy brows?
Yes she’s got the bushy brows.
Bushy brows, bushy brows, curly hair, curly hair, Oooh Alloutte, etc.

Has she got the broken nose, etc.
Has she got the puffy lips, etc.
Has she got the two buck teeth, etc.
Has she got the double chin, etc.
Has she got the saggy tits, etc.
Has she got the pot belly, etc.
Has she got the moovy crutch, etc.
Has she got he knobbly knees, etc.
Has she got the tiny toes, etc.

MAYOR OF BAYSWATER’S DAUGHTER
(the hairs of her dickey di-do)

The Mayor of Bayswater,
He has a lovely daughter,
And the hairs on her dicky-di-doe,
Hang down to her knees.

And the hairs (and the hairs)
And the hairs (and the hairs)
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees
One black one, one white one, and one with a little shite on
And one with a little light on, to show us the way!

She’s not a great looker, but everyone took ‘er
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

You’d need a coal miner to find her vagina
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

If she were my daughter I’d have them cut shorter
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

I’ve touched it, I’ve licked it, it tastes just like brisket
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

She lived by the waterfront, with the waves lapping up and down her cunt
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

She married an Italian, who was hung like a fucking stallion
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

She divorced the Italian, and married the stallion
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

I folded her lips back, and there found a six-pack
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

It was always hit-or-miss, whether I could find her clitoris
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

I reached into her thing, and there found my class ring
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

I’ve licked it, I’ve felt it, it was just like velvet
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

She says that she’s not a whore, but she bangs like a shithouse door
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

The aroma it lingers, it smells like fish fingers
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

She stayed in Seattle, and went down on cattle
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

She met a Hash House Harrier, who fucked her but wouldn’t marry her
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

It’d take a brontosaurus to eat her clitoris
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

It’d take a bloody wrecker to extract your pecker
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

It’s like going through a forest, to find her clitoris
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

Her love thought he’d seduced her, but turned out he’d only goosed her.
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

On her first trip through Melbourne, she strangled her firstborn
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

She lives on a cattle ranch, and shits like a bloody avalanche
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

If she were my daughter, I’d have her cut it much shorter
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

On a trip through Vladivostock, she sampled a bit of horsecock
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

She sits on a mountain, and pisses like a bloody fountain
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

I flicked it, I licked it, I even drop kicked it
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

I fucked her, I sucked her, I even loose rucked her
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

I touched it, I poked it, I even rolled and smoked it
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees

It takes a hasher from Halve Mein to fuck her a dozen times
And the hairs of her dickey di-do hung down to her knees…

I LIKE MY VINO

I like my Beer, it makes me feel queer,
But give me the good old vino.
I like my vino,
It gives me a stand supremo.
Aye,aye,aye aye, si si senora,

My sister Belinda she pissed out the window,
And filled up my brand new sombrero.
Anker because I’m a wanker
Brandy it makes me feel randy
Champagne it makes me cum again
Cider helps me get inside her
Claret it stiffens the carrot
Coke it helps me to poke
Gin it helps me get in
Jack Daniels because “he” fucks spaniels
Ovaltine makes me feel like a fairy queen
Pernod ‘cos it makes my dong grow
Pimms it lubricates quims
Port because “he’s” so short
Rum it helps me to cum
Schnapps it helps me with the chaps (cure the clap)
Seven Up it helps me get my pecker up
Sliwovitz it helps me cum between her tits
Sprite ‘cos I can go all the night
Stout it helps me get out
Tea because “he” gets it for free
Tequila it helps me to feel her
Whisky it makes me feel frisky
Wine it makes me feel fine

YOGI BEAR SONG
(Tune of the Camptown Races)

There is a bear in the deep dark woods,
Yogi, Yogi,
There is a bear in the deep dark woods,
Yogi, Yogi Bear.

CHORUS (REPEAT PREVIOUS VERSE):

Yogi, Yogi Bear!
Yogi, Yogi Bear!
There is a bear in the deep dark woods,
Yogi, Yogi Bear.

VERSES

Yogi has a little friend,
Boo-Boo, Boo-Boo
Yogi has a little friend,
Boo-Boo, Boo-Boo Bear

Boo-Boo, Boo-Boo Bear!
Boo-Boo, Boo-Boo Bear!
Yogi has a little friend,
Boo-Boo, Boo-Boo Bear

Boo-Boo has a girlfriend, Cyndi, Cyndi

Yogi has a girlfriend, Suzi, Suzi

Cyndi has a shaven snatch, Grizzly, Grizzly

Cyndi wears crotchless undies, Teddy, Teddy

Cyndi likes it on the ice, Polar, Polar

Cyndi gets what she deserves, Pregnant, Pregnant

Suzi likes it up the rear, Dirty, Dirty

Suzi’s boyfriend has no teeth, Gummi, Gummi

Suzi’s snatch it smells like cheese, Camel, Camel

Suzi she has great big tits, More than, More than (I can bear)

Suzi gets four bits an hour, Jingle, Jingle

Cyndi’s tampon has no string, Cotton, Cotton

Yogi didn’t use a condom, Daddy, Daddy

Boo-Boo likes it upside down, Koala, Koala

Boo-Boo has a twelve-inch cock, Cindy’s a lucky bear

Boo-Boo’s only three feet tall, Yogi’s a lucky bear

Boo-Boo likes it up the butt, Yogi’s a lucky bear

Yogi didn’t wipe his butt, Brown, Brown

Yogi uses Afro-Sheen, Black, Black

Yogi got a case of crabs, Itchy, Itchy

Yogi lights Kuwaiti farts, Saddam, Saddam

Boo-Boo likes to stroke his tool, Wanker, Wanker

Yogi also likes young boys, Poofter, Poofter

SONG ENDER:

Yogi he has HIV,
Dying, Dying
Yogi he has HIV,
Dying, Dying Bear.

Dying, Dying Bear!
Dying, Dying Bear!
Yogi he has HIV,
Dying, Dying Bear.