here is a poem by GRIM_SLEEPER from the clan i belong to (
www.rabiddogsofhell.com)
GO DOWN TO THE OLD PUB
lad its your duty to find you a lass
with child bearing hips and a pink supple ass
and make her your wife
and lather her with love so true
Now some rivers run high
some rivers run low and
her river runs red and she’s starting her flow
ands its called menstruation heres what it means to you
You will notice her bloomers are spotty at first
stand back her ovarian dams gonna burst
son don’t be afraid its a natural thing
just wad up some cotton and hand her a string
and put the old linens on top of the bed
get out of the house and go down to the old pub instead
She'll retain her water her breast'll be tender
say something nice and you're sure to offend her
get out of the house and go down to the old pub instead
She'll want to make love, if you do you're a fool
you'll only end up with a bloody old tool
get out of the house and go down to the old pub instead
And she'll want you to sample the fruit of her loins
but son it'll taste like some old rusty coins
so turn off the light and
take off your hat and drop to your knees say a prayer to saint pat
that'll give you the strength to get out of bed
and for Irelands sake get out of the house and go down to the old pub instead
Now the pub is the place where the lads are meeting
when the moon is full and the gals are a bleeding
the catholic the protestant the demon the pig
and the pub is the place where your lady is raggin
so drink up your pint boys and thank your shamrocks
that as men folks that we don’t have to bleed from our c#cks
and that we can escape from the lady in red
and get out of the house and go down to the old pub instead