For the Cockney's

Quickly down the apples and pears,
and hop into the jam jar.
Heading down the frog and toad,
into the rub da dub dub,
for a cheaky little pig's ear.
One too many later and I need a gypsy's kiss,
but can't drive now or I'll be brown bread.
Better call for an itch in me cracksy.
I flag one down in the field of wheat,
but not before one more Malcolm in the Middle in the alley.

The twist and twirl I met comes back for a quiet one,
but before I can offer her a missin' link,
shes got her dicky dirt off,
and soon after the steve mcqueen's are gone too.
I take a jimmy cliff of her hair,
And gaze into her dots and dyes.
I know I've got a frank skinner,
shes everything I've ever wanted, if only for the title fight.
Our bodies merge, and bend and I think I see odd bod.

I wake in the morning and scratch my loaf of bread,
was it all a custard cream?
I realize I'm in Barney Rubble, even though she was a fox
The bloody tart stole my innocence,
As well as my gucci 'n rocks!