Poor old Billy's wife was bitchin' 'bout the flooring in the kitchen,
And there was no way that he could circumvent 'er;
So he went off to the Depot and he bought himself a heap o'
Pretty tiles that made a pattern in the center.

So he lays them quite precisely, and the pattern shows up nicely,
It's a butterfly, his wife is thrilled to bits,
So they go to bed that night, and in the early morning light,
She slips on those new tiles and does the splits.

So she's yelling, causing ructions, and despite Bill's tugs the suction's
Far too strong, you see her pussy's stuck like glue,
So he fetches Tom from yonder, and together there they ponder,
To figure what the devil they can do.

"With a chisel or a file," says Bill, "We ought to lift that tile,
And then we better take her to the doc's.
A bloody fine do, this is; Tom you stay here with my missus,
While I go and get the tools from out their box."

Billy comes back, has nine fits: Tom's there playing with her tits,
Billy stands there, doesn't know if he should weep or
Laugh.  "I'm trying to get," says Tom, "Her roused, and pretty wet,
Then we'll slide her to those plain tiles, they'll be cheaper."

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Last updated: Mon, 1 Jan 2001.