Oh Heaven, help our Linda!
She's really done it now
What's more, it's all so obvious
I mean her stomach's sticking out.
If father tells me mother,
she's bound to have a fit,
followed by a neat convulsion,
thanks to our permissive twit.
She thinks his name was Ronald
Or was it Sid, or Len?
The only thing that's certain
is that it wasn't Bill, or Ben.
Our parish priest, God bless him,
the very reverend Father Pitt,
will no doubt be preaching sermons
to our dear permissive twit.
By now the word will no doubt have been heard
By almost every bleeding nosy parker in our alley
All except that is, our own great-aunt Liz,
who I hear's been deaf since the day our Grace recorded Sally, Sally, Sally.
Unless we raise the money,
she'll have to let it out
What I mean is she will have to,
have it the right way, wrong way about.
In other words, let nature
take its course and do its bit,
for the sake of those concerned with
our own |: dear permissive :| dear permissive twit!