Round 19, 2008, North Melbourne beat Western Bulldogs
Under the witchful eye of his mattressy, the Cankers, scratching a lover, beat the Dullblogs, catching a cod, in a fission to suggest that while one is grinning the other is striding still.
Still, they have their plebians all across the pork which is swearing at this tomb of yore, but you can't see the slime for the Cankers, up for a belt and in there like a nuffer's ulcer.
You could say it on their farces from the gotta go, as they shimmied on coals to the pain of the Dullblogs, boring as bot-shit; shit ten bricks and say inlaudables to your bitter halves.
They'll need a good rock in the mirror, many, as they kneel up for a croak at the fatal unction, which is where the Cankers are hardened, and that's bot-nose for every one's ulcer.
It's them and the Boobloggers in a bottle that will have me winging out the trees from mine arse, which is what you'll get when the Loins tickle on the Dullblogs: think God, for merci.
Still, they have their plebians all across the pork which is swearing at this tomb of yore, but you can't see the slime for the Cankers, up for a belt and in there like a nuffer's ulcer.
You could say it on their farces from the gotta go, as they shimmied on coals to the pain of the Dullblogs, boring as bot-shit; shit ten bricks and say inlaudables to your bitter halves.
They'll need a good rock in the mirror, many, as they kneel up for a croak at the fatal unction, which is where the Cankers are hardened, and that's bot-nose for every one's ulcer.
It's them and the Boobloggers in a bottle that will have me winging out the trees from mine arse, which is what you'll get when the Loins tickle on the Dullblogs: think God, for merci.
