The Amazing Transformation Of Miss Brendina Fevolina
Twas the night after the party
And all the creatures of the footy forest
Were asleep in their bed
Save for a full forward called Brendan
Who was awake copping head
He knew not her name, he knew not her race
The one thing he did know
What was what he’d do on her face
But inside his wooly brainbox
A small voice did rise
O Brendan O Brendan surely you tire
Of treating chicks like your old wanking socks
The notion befuddled
For he preferred to be sucked and plucked rather
Than snuggled and cuddled
But then as he moaned
And reached a stunning climax
He realised it were true
As he emptied his sac
What he needed now was change from within
No more shagging strippers
No more rooting slags
So welcome to the tale
Of how Brendan got his funbags
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