Every Fuck down in Fucksville liked XXXmas a lot...
But the Inch, who lived just north of Fucksville, did not!
The Inch hated XXXmas! The whole XXXmas season!
Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be that his testicles were hung up far too high.
It could be, perhaps, that his bladder was shy.
But I think that the most likely reason of all,
May have been that his cock was two sizes too small.
But who cares why? The guy was a schmuck,
He stood there on XXXmas Eve, hating the Fucks,
Staring down from his lair with swollen, blue balls,
At the radiantly lit windows below in their halls.
For he knew that every Fuck down where he gazed,
Was busy now, having their pubic hair shaved.
"And they're trying on their nighties!" he snarled with a sneer,
"Tomorrow is XXXmas! It's practically here!"
Then he growled, with his Inch fingers nervously drumming,
"I must find some way to stop all those Fuckers from cumming!"
For tomorrow, he knew, all the lusty studs and sluts,
Would wake nice and horny. They'd all start to rut!
And then! Oh, the moans! Oh, the moans!
Moans! Moans! Moans!
That's one thing he hated! The moans!
Moans! Moans! Moans!
Then the Fucks, barely legal and mature, would hump.
And they'd hump! And they'd hump! And they'd hump!
Hump! Hump! Hump!
They would hump in their pussies, and tight little rumps.
Which was something that put the Inch down in the dumps!
And then the thing that he hated most would begin!
Every Fuck down in Fucksville, the fat and the thin,
Would lay close together, with their vibrators humming.
They'd lay side-by-side. And the Fucks would start cumming!
They'd cum! And they'd cum! And they'd cum!
Cum! Cum! Cum!
And the more the Inch thought of this Fuckville wide climax,
The more he thought, "I must stop this whole thing in its tracks!"
"Why, for sixty-nine years I've put up with it now!"
"I must stop this XXXmas from coming! But how?"
Then he got an idea! A nasty idea!
The Inch got a wonderful, nasty idea!
"I know just what to do!" The Inch laughed in his throat.
And he made a quick wide brimmed hat and a coat.
And he chuckled, and clucked, "I am such a devilish Imp!"
"With this coat and this hat, I look just like a Pimp!"
"All I need is a hooker..." The Inch looked around.
But, since the Inch had no Hos, there was none to be found.
Did that stop the old bastard? No! The Inch simply said,
"If I can't find a woman, I'll make one instead!"
So he gathered some straw, and he formed it into shape,
And he planted a red wig on its head with some tape.
Then he grabbed the straw woman and a few old rucksacks,
And then jumped behind the wheel of his rusty old Cadillac.
Then the Inch said, "Let’s go!" And the jalopy started down,
Toward the homes where the Fucks lay asnooze in their town.
All their windows were dark. Soft groans filled the air.
The Fucks were all dreaming wet dreams without care.
When he came to the first flophouse on the square.
"This place will work for a start," the old Inchy Pimp hissed,
And he jumped into the window, empty bags in his fist.
Then he crept into the living room, on the tips of his toes,
past the discarded condoms and piles of clothes.
And into the parlor, the Inch gleefully strolled.
In the middle of the room was a polished stripper pole.
Laid out beneath it were wondrous sex toys galore.
"They won’t need these!" he chuckled, as he started his chore.
Then he slithered and slunk, with his heart starting to sing,
Around the whole room, and he stole every plaything!
Dildos! And Sybians! Anal beads! Balls!
French Ticklers! Massagers! Butt plugs! And dolls!
And he stuffed them in sacks. Then the Inch, the old baddie,
Threw the sacks, into the trunk of his Caddy!