Brian Is A Cunt

Brian is a cunt. 

You can stick him underground. 

Put him six feet under 

Where he never will be found. 

Let him rot and fester 

In a casket of cheap pine 

With plastic fake-brass handles 

Where the sun will never shine. 

 

Let me dance upon his grave 

And sing a merry song 

About the corpse beneath my feet 

Down where it does belong. 

Join me in a party 

And spread wide the invitation 

To anyone who’d love to 

Celibrate his expiration. 

 

Let us dig his coffin up 

And bring it to the feast 

Let us prise the lid open 

And drag out the deceased. 

Oh what fun and games we could have 

With our guest of honour. 

There’s no need to leave him out 

Just ’cos he’s a goner. 

 

Let us put on boxing gloves 

And punch him in the face. 

And then play "Who can kick the cunt 

The furthest around this place?" 

String him like a puppet 

Make him dance Y.M.C.A. 

And give a small voicebox 

That just says, "I am gay". 

 

Then let us hire a rent boy 

Who’s prepared to shag the dead, 

And when he’s done it up his arse 

Will give old Brian his head. 

And then return him to the grave 

Amongst the grubs and worms. 

Partied out to kingdom come 

His sphincter full of sperm. 

 

Poetry

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