While Rurals washed off their spots by night, Their kids were being done by Pea an’ Does, The worst thing about it tho, Was that their wives had prearranged it. “Fear not!” said she, for mighty dread Had seized their troubled mind; “Glad tidings of great profit I bring To you and all womankind. “To you every day in Maptonshire Is born an essential product A Sacrifice who is’nt Christ the Lord, And though shalt leave no sign: “The heav’nly Baby you there shall find To ‘human’ view displayed, All meanly wrapped in swathing bands, And in a manager laid.” Thus spake the devil and forthwith Appeared a shining thong Of fake angels praising God on high, Who sold their soul to Lucifer: “All glory be to God on high, And to the Earth be peace; Good will henceforth from heav’n to men Begin and never cease!”
