The Bremalo
Tis a pale sort of tale about ye olde ‘be freak,’
With a forty-inch waist with a ten-inch beak.
Overweight, out of shape and bearing the thrice the chin,
Her brassiere doth strike fear in the hearts of stalwart men.
Thyne girl's a Bremelo... Bremalo.
Twas Me and Abernathy in Nicholshire, we were lookin' suave
On Wentworth Avenue of course, hit in traffic, surely twas a horse!
It was a big Bremelo, heavy standing right upon my toe,
Had an overt jelly belly as if tryin' to say ‘hello.. ho ho ho.’
I was certainly afright as she looked down my way,
We could not run because her buns blocked the whole of the alleyway!
To be blunt, maid twas fat, ready for culture, crafts and combat!
Thyne girl's a Bremelo... Bremalo.
I surely love bacon, and my steak but on about those big ole clucks
She had hairy underarms and a whopping mega gut!
Her hair was short and wavy, drove my Fido crazy,
A Balor beast chasin' fellas in the Navy.
Look at her physique she ain't my kinda lass,
The floor creaks when the beast starts walking past!
Thyne girl's a Bremelo... Bremalo.
Just a Bremelo.
You can't ignore the way she snores, cause she blows down barn doors.
Maiden’s got the kind a face only a mother adores.
A big Danish Skull head with a 10-inch beak,
Big lips, no hips with the smell of a beast!
Thyne girl's a Bremelo... Bremalo.
I say she could lift a moose Abernathy, she took a spinshot to the face!
Just another Bremelo, Chesterfield, you know how it goes.
