Joseph and Mary (A Christmas Story - sort of - Part 1)

Hiya Joe, how have you been, I thought I'd call to see,
if you'd do me a favor and quickly, marry me?
I'll cut the crap and waffle because this is serious stuff
and we need to get hitched real soon, cos I am up the duff!

Well fuck me gently Mary, that's a turn up for the book;
I've been trying for years, to give you one but never got a look.
Now you come round, bold as brass, begging; wed me quick!
'cause you've been screwin' round, while I' been playing wiv me dick.

It's not like that Joe, honestly; I never have been screwed,
and I really don't appreciate, you being quite so rude.
It was an angel that told me, when I was sleeping sound;
I think I'd know if someone had been buried in me mound.

I know you may be innocent about the birds and bees
but you can't just get preggers, unless you have spread your knees.
Now there's some bugger out there, who's been at your pussy, Love
and he ain't no fuckin' angel, but he sure cum from above!

Shut your cake-hole Wooden-top, you've got a filthy mind,
the angel said you were a prat – but all that he could find.
Now, you are gonna marry me, your options ain't that many;
if you are that frustrated; make yourself a wooden fanny.

Joe grabbed a hammer from his box but suddenly was struck;
by the vision of an angel, who said, “Hey Joe, what the fuck?
I'm gonna make you famous son, you'll be a household name
and all you gotta really do, is play the fuckin' game.

The kid that Mary's havin' soon, is an important child,
he'll invent a thing called Christmas, which really will be wild.
It'll be a thousand years – at least - before you hear them say;
I wonder if Joe was a saint or was he really gay?

It ain't as bleak as it may seem because I can arrange;
the Boss will look the other way, if you fancy some strange.
So put on your best whistle and let's get this thing done
and let's make Mary decent, before she pops her bun.”

So the wedding went ahead and everything went well,
they all thought Joe, a randy sod, when Mary's belly swelled.
Poor old Joe, he got it hard and one hot summer's night;
got splinters, when he made the wooden fanny, much too tight.

Keep an eye out for the Nativity