The Ball of Kirriemuir


Four and twenty virgins came down from Inverness 

And when the ball was over there were four and twenty less

Singing balls to your partner
Ass against the wall
If you can't get laid on Saturday night
You'll never get laid at all

The village vicar he was there, in his long black shroud
Swinging from the chandelier and pissing on the crowd

The village leper he was there, sitting on a log
Peeling off his foreskin and feeding it to the dog

The village economist, he was there, penis in his hand
Waiting for the moment when supply would meet demand

Sgt. Murphy he was there, the pride of all the force
They found him in the stable, wanking off his horse

The village marshal he was there, with his sword in hand
And every time he turned around he circumcised the band

The bride was in the bedroom, explaining to the groom
The vagina not the rectum is the entry to the womb

The groom was in the parlor, explaining to the bride
The penis not the scrotum is the part that goes inside

The village plumber he was there, he felt an awful fool
He'd come eleven leagues or more, and forgot to bring his tool

Little Timmy, he was there, he was only eight
He couldn't join the fucking so he had to masturbate

The minister's wife was at the ball, a-sitting in the front
A wreath of flower round her ass, a carrot in her cunt

The village magician, he was there, doing his favorite trick
Pulling his foreskin over his head and vanishing up his prick

The queen was in the kitchen, eating bread and honey
The king was in the chambermaid, and she was in the money

The village cripple he was there, he wasn't good for much
He lined up all the ladies and fucked them with his crutch

The local harlot, she was there, a laying on the floor
And every time she spread her legs the vacuum shut the door

There was fucking in the haystacks, fucking in the ricks
You couldn't hear the music for the swishing of the pricks

They were fucking in the parlor, fucking in the grass
All that you could see were waves of undulating ass

There was fucking in the hallway, fucking on the stairs
You couldn't see the carpet for the layer of pubic hairs

The village smithy, he was there, sitting by the fire
Doing abortions by the score with a red-hot piece of wire


First lady forward, second lady back
Third lady's finger up the fourth lady's crack

The local herder, he was there, and he began to weep
All these willing ladies, and not a single sheep

A couple of Hashers, they were there, a-looking for a fuck
But all the cunts were occupied and they were out of luck

And when the ball was over, everyone confessed
They all enjoyed the dancing but the fucking was the best