The Great Coruisk Shit Fountain
(to the
tune of “The
On a bright
spring day, in the month of May,
Ray came
in a-calling,
The turds won’t go, it’ll overflow,
And the
smell is quite appalling.
We all
went out, and had a scout
Around all
with a clatter
And all
the pipes were filled with types
Of
compacted faecal matter
Chorus:
Oh the cursing on the breeze makes
the sailors freeze
And echoes round the mountain
So sings the throng the timeless
song
of the Great Coruisk Shit Fountain.
So we did
prod, with fishing rod,
Inside the
pan with vigour
No sound was
heard and still the turd
Sat there
looking bigger
Stench
pipe off we found the trough
Was filled
up in its turn
Tried to
push it through with pipe of blue
Meant to
go up to the burn
Chorus:
Now hearts
they sank as the septic tank
Was seen
blocked at the end
With plugs
of moss, a thick green boss
But Al’s will wouldn’t bend
With bit
of wood, astride he stood
Stabbed at
the cause of trouble
And at the
loo, the awful stew
Did
finally start to bubble
Chorus:
The moss
did seep, began to weep
The plug
began to break
The moss
did snap and the head of crap
Was more
than it could take
Three
month’s shit, each bit of it
Shot high
in all directions
Al stood
still and took his fill
Right up
to his mid-section.
Chorus:
This tale
is true, I promise you
As sure as
my names Martin
So be sure
you, when you poo
Your
troubles are not starting
Check for
weeds when you do your deeds
Especially
in the mountain
Ensure the
flow when you go,
And avoid
the Great Shit Fountain
Martin Fagan
Back
to: Contents