(I was invited to develop the characterisation of Mr G as he appeared in an earlier post)

 

Hey, Mr Gabardine Man

Give a flash for me

I’m not prudish so let’s see what God’s bestowing you.

And hey, Mr Gabardine Man

Give a flash for me

Don’t hide your dingle-dangle organ

They’re not following you.

 

Outside the Barnsley Empire so proudly you would stand

With your chopper in your hand

Showing off your swollen glans

To your following of fans

Keeping conk for police vans

How we jeered their rotten, spoilsport interference;

But, sad to say, your luck ran out your fortune had to drop

When a young ambitious cop

Kinda caught you on the hop

So your climax was a flop

And he sadly made you stop

“The Last Turkey in the Shop”

Your routine which brought about your court appearance.

 

So Hey, …

 

There were times your exposure didn’t turn out as you planned

As when a grim and grey-haired gran

With the Salvation Army Band

Delivered painful reprimand

To your tender prostate gland

As she jabbed you up the arse with her umbrella;

Or then that time last summer when you thought your luck was in

As a dolly bird named Lynn

Impressed by your foreskin

Which could hold 12 coins within

Asked to play with your huge pin

So you went behind the gym

But found a cock and not a quim

As this lovely chick turned out to be a fella.

 

So hey…

 

I well recall that time last year you did your usual strip

But got caught inside your zip

Where its vicious vice-like nip

Made you hop and dance and skip

Which only reinforced its grip

And caused your circumcistic snip

As you tried to give the slip

To the pride of all of Yorkshire’s Police Forces;

But when at last they cornered you by Barnsley’s Town Hall clock

They would laugh and jeer and mock

But then they received a shock

As you lifted up your smock

To reveal your handsome cock

Still as hard as Blackpool rock

So prodigious that it panicked all their horses

 

So hey….