graphql.muchmore.be/reconcliate-con-tu-nio-interior.php She married a lieutenant and got a visa to the States. The hope and dream of all the bar girls here. But after a winter in Minot, she froze her little twat And caught the freedom bird back to Angeles. I brought a newboot out to meet the gang, He said he needed a crowd with which to hang. But for all us who knows, to bring some dry clothes, Take a short cut through the creek to where the beer flows. On the North shores of Antarctica Where the yanks have never been Lies the carcass of a bloody great polar bear Shagged to death by a Hash House team.
Well we have a reputation For molesting little boys For abusing old age pensioners And stealing kiddies toys. The Hash is a barrel of madness A mishmash of sweat and travail And yet I admit with great gladness I look forward to the next e-mail. Close the narrow circle, gather round the beer. Can you tell me how to get, How to get to Leopard Street? Live or pre-lay, Trail runs a-long the Bay. But can you tell me how to get, How to get to Leopard Street?
Shitty Trail on a,. How to get to Leopard Street. Searching hard, to no avail. We just want to see your tits. Naked fire jumping makes us hot. They got a hundred or two hash house harriers, and they like to have a lot of fun. They eat their red beans and rice, while drinking beer as cold as ice and they have even been known to run. They mark the intersections, with hash in all directions so they can split and bring together the pack. After running for an hour, through the nastiest parts around, The hares all wail, that they have laid the perfect trail, but their reward will be a double Down Down.
And the night turns into morning, they have acted like a bunch of fools. Dressed up like a twenty dollar hasher Trying hard to be a trashy flasher Fashion Smasher.
All Gypsies hear our call! Raise glass and stand up tall! Join us and sing. I was walking through the park on Halloween. When I beheld a drunken scene. They did the Hash They did the Gypsies Hash! The Gypsies Hash It was their th Hash! Drunk in a flash It was the Gypsies Hash! He did the Hash I did the Gypsies Hash! Thurston: Mmmm. Bucket goood! Down Thurston, you impetuous young boy. Thurston: Bucket goooood. New Orleans is my hash.
Nothing could be swanker. Than running with those wankers. Give us this day, Our daily bet, and forgive us, Our speculations. As we forgive those Who speculate against us. Lead us not into Communism, But deliver us, From Gwailos. Happy is the Hash, With my finger up her snatch, By the light of the silvery moon. And call it a day, come on along, And join the Mother Hash.
Anybody can join us, Black, brown, yellow, or blue, And nobody need feel nervous, We even take white folks too! Us Pikes Peak hashers are dirty flashers, We piss through leather britches, We wipe our ass with broken glass, Us horny sons of bitches. When cunt is rare, we fuck a bear, We knife him if he snitches, We knock our cocks against the rocks, Us horny sons of bitches.
We take our ass upon the grass, In bushes or in ditches, Our two-pound dinks are full of kinks, Us horny sons of bitches. Without remorse, we fuck a horse, And beat him if he twitches, Our two-foot pricks are full of nicks, Us horny sons of bitches. To make a mule stand for the tool, We beat him with hickory switches, We use our pricks for walking sticks, Us horny sons of bitches.
Great joy we reap from cornholing sheep, In barns, or bogs, or ditches, Nor give a damn if it be a ram, Us horny sons of bitches. We walk around, prick to the ground, And kick it if it itches, And if it throbs, we scratch it with cobs, Us horny sons of bitches. We masturbate from morn to late, Till our bloody foreskin twitches, Next morning at ten we begin again, Us horny sons of bitches.
At Pikes Peak, we got no fears, We do not stop at trifles, We hang our balls on the walls, And shoot at them with rifles. We scrounge a cow and care not how, The shit sticks to our britches, And fetch a bull and fill him full, Us horny sons of bitches. We fuck our wives with butcher knives, And keep their cunts in stitches, But VD makes it hurt to pee, Us horny sons of bitches. I wish I was with the Hash in Richmond.
Hashes there are really bitchin. Hash away, hash away, hash away, Richmond hash. In the Richmond hash where I was named. Running shiggy trails, drunk and lamed. Hash away, hash away, hash away Richmond Hash. Oh I wish I was in Richmond. Away away. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the running of the Hash. We will run and drink and fall down till we run out of our cash. The Hashers are on trail.
On, on, Shanghai Hashers. Oh, Sluts from Lutz, you drive me nuts, Your love may make me dead. Oh, Sluts from Lutz, this poem sucks, But not as well as you. Grind your highheels into my chest, While I admire the view! All things bright and beautiful All creatures great and small All things wise and wonderful We like to eat them all. Each little beast that staggers Each little bird that sings We eat their tiny bodies We eat their little wings. Well all. Then a voice. Now with the circle hash.
The only thing a hasher needs, Is a butt plug and a mug, One to keep queers out of their rears, The other so they can chug. The virgins show up early, They drink, pass out, and are through, The experienced hashers cum later, And cover the virgins in goo. Now the moral of our story, Mardi Gras is a blast, From the Emerald Coast, we propose a toast, Merci, with our tits and ass. Now the only thing a hasher needs, Is a shag bag and a beer, The only time that he is satisfied, Is when the beer is near. Now all I have left is a beer-stained T-shirt, And my Nikes are covered in shiggy and dirt, My wife she has left me because of the pong, And this is the end of my terrible song.
As we staggered back to the box With our legs between our tail We had spent eight hours in many a bar But not a second scouting trail. So then we all decided With ice shoved up our ass Monster not Baller is going to come To our next fucking Warrier hash. But this tale cannot yet end Without thanks to the Oregon Hash And kidnap victim number three Much honor to deep gash. Let me tell you the story of a Hasher named Wetspots on a tragic and fateful day. She put flour in her pocket, kissed her best man Stinky and proceeded to lay the trail. Kept on telling us we loved it.
Was determined to hash without end. She is banned from laying trail. She may run with us tomorrow, but her Hare we will not follow. She decided she would greet us at the tavern she would meet us. She was greeted with so much rage. And after produce row she led us, from the city then she sped us. Now her half-mind was unengaged. Then our most exalted Tyrant stuck his head inside her window and proceeded to grab her keys. Pizza we assembled for a session that resembled something of a lynch partee. It was a Horrid Hash disaster, that will live for ever after in the annals of infamy.
As the day when our dear Wetspots grabbed her final sack of flour and she sealed her destiny. As I hashed the white sands of Panama City, I got lost in the shiggy for days. I spied some dumb rednecks and asked for directions, They all had erections and admired my teeth. Drink a little bit, run a little bit, follow the hash, Join in our happy song. Mighty fine hares are they, are they, Mighty fine hares are they. They mark the true trail with bottles of ale, And mark false ones with three lines of pee. Mighty fine hashers are they, are they, Mighty fine hashers are they.
Mighty fine virgins are they, are they, Mighty fine virgins are they. And like a junkie let out on bail, Out on bail I gotta have a hit of that E-mail. Hit E-mail. How much lower can a half-mind get? I should unsubscribe. These worthless postings are getting me pissed. Top ten list. Hitler to them. I really laughed at those jokes you know, when first posted six months ago. And you know we all take offense at daily postings for those hash events. Nassau cruise. Is he a bigger voyeur than me? Hash nudity. I really laughed at those jokes you know, When first posted six months ago.
And you know we all take offense At daily postings for those hash events. Short cuts that leave all the front bastards trailing, Misleading directions leaving short cutters wailing, Slippery slopes where hounds flounder in shit, These are some things that appeal to my wit. Quims soft and puckered and minge short and curly, Tight little cunts fringed with spunk white and pearly, Red painted nipples, an ice cube blow job, These are the things that will make my cock throb.
Limbs brown and supple, with buttocks gyrating, Positions amazing, damp cunt lips pulsating, Cheerful young bodies all eager to screw, Of my favorite things these are only a few. A run that was set by those mad hares the Dutch, A ride in old trucks that you all loved so much, Some piss that was different with a beer glass thrown in, Surely a fucking good hash, no hash sin. I am a man of constant boners, I see hooters everywhere.
I will bid farewell to my virginity Down in the place with pubic hair. But I guarantee that my pudenda Will satisfy, and leave them sore. I have hashed for hours in some deep valley, Many falses I have found. Someday I may learn to skip the buses, To stay at camp and fuck around. And maidens gather round in droves, To see his manly figure. Of flashing thighs and knobby knees, He makes a splendid sight. And all the girls do seek of him, To spend with them the night. At this ancient sport he does excel, None is better in the land.
But Tuesday sees him big and bold, If a little red of eye. As lovers go he is the best, The girls cannot go wrong. But concealed inside his noble head, Is more than an empty beer can. Of intellect he is most high, Long words come naturally. On hashing nights great minds confer, To put the world to right. Engineers and scientists, Politicians from left and right.
It really is a treasure trove, Of wit and repartee. If only the world was made of such, Then life would be a ball. Oh, fret not, pretty maiden, A hasher will keep you warm. St Peter studies the Hash Cash book, To see what he might owe. CHORUS hold chair upside down to simulate bagpipes; make droning sound and tap throat to form notes : Na na na na na na na, Na na na na na na na, Na na na na na na na, Na na na na.
Bengali one so long, Melayu one potong, Indian one so dark and strong, Orang Puteh just like sotong. There is a lady in sarong, She prefers it done on a palong, To her surprise we can stand so long, Because one fails the rest will carry on. Unending beer once again A hour pub crawl Random acts of debauchery And hounds passed out in halls. Oh the barrel broke me shoulder as to the ground it sped, And when I reached the top I smacked the pulley with me head. I still clung on though numb with shocked from this almighty blow, As the barrel spilled out half its bricks from fourteen floors below.
Now when the bricks had fallen from the barrel to the floor, I then outweighed the barrel and so started down once more. Still clinging tightly to the rope, me body racked with pain, When halfways down I met the bloody barrel once again. Oh the force of this collision halfways down the office block Caused multiple abrasions and a nasty state of shock Still clinging tightly to the rope as I headed toward the ground, And landed on the broken bricks the barrel had scattered round.
Now the barrel being heavier then started down once more, And landed right across me as I lay there on the floor. One for the arrow up the steps never to be trusted, Two, two, the jogging shoes all clogged up with mud, Ho Ho! Three, three, the checkbacks we all missed, Four for the worn out running kit, Five for the toes of the worn out hashers, Six for the pools of vomit, Seven for the down downs after the run, Eight for the ones who turned up late, Nine for hashers lost at the check, Ten for the virgins oh so cute, Eleven for the hare who set the course, Twelve for the mismanagement of the pack.
Frozen ballocks and frozen cock, Daylight come and I want to go home, Had a piss and froze to the block, Daylight come and I want to go home. What shall we do with the drunken hasher, What shall we do with the drunken hasher, What shall we do with the drunken hasher, After all the down-downs? Put him in the back of the old hash wagon, Drag him by a rope from the old hash wagon, Kick him in the ass behind the old hash wagon, After all the down-downs. The Gagging Beaver Bunch! When you find the true trail and you want some com-pan-y, Give a little whis-tle whistle , give a little whis-tle whistle.
The pound is the place where she ought to be. You know. What do I see? Is he jogging back to me? I tip my hat to all I meet, And they wave back to me The blackbird call So loud and sweet From every dogwood tree. High overhead the Skylark wings. He never stays at home. And just like me, He loves to sing As over the whores he roams.
Oh may I go a-hashing Until the day I die. By Asshole, performed at Americas Interhash 99 in Pittsburgh. I throw it long, straight, curvy, wurvey, Shiggy, shaggy, nice and nasty hilly, easy, fleetly Streams that gleam and sometimes toxic Trot it, polka-dot it Twist it, beat it, wadd it Powdered, floured, and confettied, mangled, tangled, spangled, and near spaghetti junction! Harriette, oh Harriette, Say have you met Harriette, Harriette the tattooed hasher. She has eyes that harriers adore so, And a torso even more so. Harriette, oh Harriette, That sexy little vignette, Harriette the erotic queen of tattoo.
And right above is her price list in blue, You can get your rocks off with Harriette. She can give you a view of sex in tattoos, If you step up and tell her what. For only a buck you can see doggies fuck, Or sixty-nine different kinds of twat. Harriette, oh Harriette, Harriette the harlot we love, She once swept our GM clear off his feet, The design on her behind made his heart skip a beat, And now a tiny bastard sucks at her teat, For he went and fucked our Harriette.
Has anybody seen R J? The hares are off and the pack is such a sight, While waiting there they sing and play. All around the world everywhere it is the same, All merry, all happy and drunk. Oh give me a home where the hasher does roam, Where the hare and the harriette play, Where seldom is heard a Puritan word, And the draft beer is cold all day. Hash, hash on the range, Where the queer and the cantaloupe play, Where seldom is heard a Puritan word, And the draft beer is cold all day. The hasher is smarter! The hashers go running one by one, On-On!
The hashers go running one by one, The little one stops to shoot his cum. And they all go running down to the ground To get out of the shite, boom, boom, boom! Two by two — have a screw Three by three — take a pee Four by four — slam a whore Five by five — go muff dive Six by six — pick up tricks Seven by seven — pinch eleven Eight by eight — masturbate Nine by nine — do a line Ten by ten — get laid again. You up then jolly quicky An almose innner flash, Still feelin somewot sicky You off to join to join the Hash.
An very sooney arfter You very somewhere else, Amid the shoutsen larfter Outside a pubic howse. Then on that dredful ower Mid lots of mild dismay, There cums a serge of power: The hash is onit sway. The Hornet soun so cheery, And on the packet run, An sum, already weerie, Are wish they did not cum. A Czech pint givey breaver, For dose who laggey hind, While some fit eager beaver Will see wot ecan find. The pack once more togevver Dare win and strength all gon, But are dey finish?
Our fartin, pantin army Are strewn both wide and far. They say we must be barmy! They blubby right, we are! We run thru payne an sorrow An sometime mud a swell, An no in that tomorrow Our legs swill ert like ell! Arrows of flour and false trails leading into a swamp. Deep rivers, alleys, fences over which you have to jump. Your typical hash trail is always a typical nightmare. Hang it up and see what the on-in brings. What in the world ever became of the rat? Knocked down, it gets to wearing thin. Sometimes the trail is so plain to me.
On-on baby, back to the on-in. How many trails must a hasher lay down before they call him a piss-pot? How many hares must a harriette wet before she gets really hot? How many beers must a hasher piss before it is washed to the sea? How many times must a man lap it up before he can lick a girl dry? How many years must one hasher cheat before he can do it on the sly? How many down-downs will it take till he knows that too many hashers are fried? All over the island We are here to say. I check down trails in the afternoon, drink by the light of the moon. I love mud and blood and brambles, toxic waste and smelly goo.
Are you a drunken hasher? I am a drunken hasher too. I came to Dayton just to get a lay, ended up screwing a ewe or with PayPerView , I love kinky sex and spankings, naval shots and butt chugs too. Give me dildoes, give me butt plugs, give me whips and bondage. Cause I am a horny hasher! Are you a horny hasher? I am a horny hasher too! I want a nasty little hasher princess With long phony nails and a hairdo that rinses A horny little hasher princess With a garlic aroma that could level Tacoma Pausing on the trail side So that she can swallow my pride.
Oh, I could tell you why The Dogman never scores. Imagine no Budweiser Or beer that comes in cans No need for geeks or bimbos A hash comprised of men Imagine all the hashers Drinking all the beer. Fie, fi, infidelity Fie, fi, infidelity Fie, fi, infidelity Humping on my old girl Ho. But something made me think this girl was different, It must have been the tattoos on her boobs.
She wore hot pants and see-through T-shirt, Sipped her beer through rosy choo-choo lips. Then I got myself into position, Where I could see her lovely buttocks sway. This girl showed me that she was no novice, Her repertoire of tricks sure made me sweat. I came, she came, then we came together, And our juices flowed till we were soaking wet. Made our way back finally to the circle, Watching smiling faces turning green. Drove her home that night, she lived in Ancol, Arranged that this should be a regular thing. But then one week later at the On-On, I took a piss and felt that tell-tale sting.
Now Dr. So that we all can have our weekly check-ups, And find out just what caused that nasty rash. Jungle smell, jungle smell, Shiggy all the way, Oh what fun it is to run Through a swamp on Sunday — Hey! Note: this is a Hong Kong hashing song by Malibog.
Obviously we want to spend it, so we can all make some money. Tuesday — the Old Tarts ladies hash. Wednesday — Little Sai Wan mixed hash. With merry merry England, And get a lease for one more century. So we go. With merry merry England, And get a lease one more century.
And he went. Six bottles later with no improvement, Hash doctors say they must remove it, leader : Cut Cut pack : Ow Ow four times Oh please raise your stein, in memory of mine! Goodbye Bill Gilroy.
Will Sunita be falling from the frying pan into the fire when she agrees to become The Malhotra Bride? Sami: Leave space in your luggage to take stuff home with you. This contest runs until 9th February Australian Eastern Standard time. The casting induced one reporter to ask Nazimova why Valentino wasn't in her film, a not at all veiled allusion to what Hollywood knew or suspected. Length: 15 pages.
You had your cane to hold yourself. We crawled to your seniors lodge. We ran you on our hash-trails. And it seems to me you lived your life. Never knowing who to drool on. Edison would have liked to have known you. Your sex drive burned out long before. EH3 created a superstar. Even when you died.
All the HashTrash had to say. Who sses you as something more than sexual. More than just a little bit queer! Once there was a hasher not unlike you or me Who had to hare on a cold December twenty-three, For sad was his mood The turnout was not good Everyone was home decorating the tree. But, lo, at halfway to four Two hashers walked thru the door Followed by two more, Three more then four more Through the door hashers continued to pour. The hare was overjoyed, he was glad, What a grand turnout he had! A promised great trail A fun time would prevail As a hare he would not fail because that would be bad.
So grand was his rapture, his luck, He danced and kicked and danced and bucked, He followed the hounds across the street All while kicking up his feet And then got hit by a delivery truck. Now the loneliest hare is dead and cold And the moral to this story I am told, You will never fail If you set a great trail But look both ways before crossing that road! But the cops, they had guns, And they shot us in the buns. They were gaining on me quick, I was feeling kind of sick.
The hashers came to give me cheer, To my bed they brought a keg of beer, I grabbed a cup and held it dear. When bikers saw my bun, I was safe from all their fun. For when you get shot in the ass, Your mooning days are over fast. When we eat your fucking pies, We gety fucking sick. So, I picked her up in my little auto. But this is where my troubles began-ah. She leaned over and grabbed my banana.
Peeled back the skin — eyes like a piranha. But she bit off the top in a violent manner. Bean, Bandung HHH. Would you like to see a Hash at the Tankuban Perahu? I pergi Hash now I wanna go home. So, I picked her up in my antique auto. You need a kiss? Washing the cars, Cleaning the glasses Trimming the kids And wiping their asses. Back in the year of Eighty and five, A brain-phart was born That is still alive.
The antics, ideas, and Concepts he cheered Took root, were nourished And grew wild on beer. Up steps, climb a fence, Dodge a truck, cross a river Drink it down, Samurai Chief, Maybe hurl, kill your liver. Now his voice may be heard As he runs the trail so all-alone, Please, please, please blow your whistle for me, But the pack, far ahead, is hiding very craftily, Back to your shiggy-pit and let us be. Well — do you think these shoes will be okay? We jumped into our auto and we headed out of town, Why were you born so beautiful, you better drink it down.
We met up with the hashers who invited us to here, To fornicate and copulate and drink their bloody beer. We climbed into the paddy wagon, locked inside the cavern, But when the doors flew open we were at another tavern. And the hares laughed so. We circled up for Down Downs and to sing another song, When something started telling us there must be something wrong.
Our bellies started growling they they needed liquid grub, So we put away the food and went to chug inside the pub. We went on to the On On On to have a rowdy time, But all that we could gather from our pockets was a dime. We put our heads together and thought that we could scrounge, The money it would take to get a beer inside the lounge. Over the river and through the woods, Down the hashing trail we go; She wanted a bed, I asked for some head, She obliged me with a blow. Over the river and through the woods, Down the hashing trail we go; I tripped on a rock, And busted my cock, It needs Viagra to grow.
Who can take a bat repeat Bite off its head repeat Then go upstairs and tuck his kids in bed, his kids in bed? The Ozzy Man can, the Ozzy man can, The Ozzy Man can, cause he mixes it with crack And makes your head spin round, your head spin round. Who can take a dove repeat Bite off its head repeat Then do a down-down while worshiping the dead, worshiping the dead? There can never be another. The Ozzy Man can, the Ozzy man can Looks a little like your brother Scares the shit out of your mother.
The wonderful thing about people in pink tutus, People in pink tutus are a wonderful thing, Their dicks are sheathed in rubber, Their tampons have wonderful strings. But the most wonderful thing about people in pink tutus is. Off trail we followed Scooter and Lipo down, Wished I had some bread crumbs to throw on the ground. Turned a corner — whoop — there it is!
She hears that A. Lipo and So. Baptits just did the M word. You can join your friends at the S. They have everything for Harriers to enjoy. You can hang out with sane hashers. You can erase your e-mail Get your mind back on trail You can ignore that Stray Dog. No man, does it all by himself I said, Harrier, put your pride on the shelf And just join them, join the S.
It can start us back on our way. You can hang out with all the hashers. You can erase your e-mail Get your mind back on trail. Just join your friends at the S. Rocky Top, Tennessee. Once I had a girl on Rocky Top Half bear, the other half cat, Sure did stink, but her cherry popped I still dream about that. Now dating a German, is cheap for the price, They bonk before dinner, and earn it but thrice. But the times they are nigh for me to repent And watch what I do, and the money I spent.
Is this the true trail? Is this a goddamn check? Harriette, run with me, will you let me cum No, we will not let you cum, let him cum No, we will not let you cum, let him cum Let me cum, let him cum, let me cum, let him cum, let me cum….
No, no, no, no, no, no, no Oh momma mia, momma mia, momma mia let me cum Beelzebub, has the devil put aside for me, for me, for me…. Another day older and covered in shit. Somebody come and hash. Somebody come and hash today! Somebody come and hash today. Somebody come and hash our way!
Somebody come with me and see the pleasure in the wind. Somebody come before it gets too late to begin. Somebody come and be my friend, And watch the sun til we hash again. Somebody come with me again, And watch the sun til we hash again. Then there was that asshole, an Irishman of little wit, Bent on destruction and mayhem was he.
Out with his pal, as if anyone would give a shit, On with our hashing, our hashing went we. Then came the Harriettes, surrounding their Grand Master, Head like a bowling ball, moustachioed was he. Not me! Spiders in my hair, How fucking frightful, Spiders in my hair, Far from delightful, This humongous bug, Could be poisonous.
Fuck this jungle shit, Give me some urban, My hair is full of webs, A sticky turban, I may soon be dead, Before this hash is through. Drunks to the left of me Wankers to the right Here I am Stuck in the middle with you. And five mates on Wanchai Hash, Told me you gave them a rash. Oh god damn — what rotten luck, Thought I was a real dead duck. But do you think that we could part? She would miss my golden heart. Oh, please keep fleecing me — just Suckanna. Oh, please — Suckanna.
That started with a keg of beer, And everyone got trashed. The first hare was a brainless cooch, His co-hare was half as smart. Two hundred some odd half-minds, Took off in a cloud of farts. The hills got steep, the shiggy deep, The back checks had them fooled. Then someone found the beer stop, And everybody drooled. The mud had sucked their sneakers off, Their legs were ripped a lot. But once they had their nectar, The trail they soon forgot.
Never seen his dick, it might have a curl! Well I got me my beer, I got me old condom! I scream like a banshee, My nerves unfurled! What can I say? I gave it a shot, I gave it a twirl!
Give the Commies a ride! As I merrily drink and I sing, Tra la, I dream of your fine furry thing, Tra la, Of a night of hot sex so divine, Of a night of hot sex so divine. Tra la la la la-a, Tra la la la la-a, Tra la la la la la! A long, long time ago, I can still remember When flour was for baking bread. And often on my training run, It occurred to me this is no fun. Then one day fate stepped in. I was running with a new-found friend. But my life changed in a flash The day I found the hash.
Well, that day, I pulled in To where this hash was to begin And encountered quite a motley crew. They pulled me aside for a little talk To explain those symbols marked with chalk. Then the whole group began to jam. Man, I dig that Father Abraham! With a sudden shout and a whistle blast, The entire pack hit the trail at last.
And I was catching on real fast The day I found the hash. And we were shouting…. Well, this trail was not hard to track But I noticed when I was looking back A hasher had gone astray. Surely this guy knows the way. But as the pack faded away, His confidence fell to decay. I thought we were so shrewd, But now we were really screwed! The trail finally took some higher ground But a thorny vine my ankle found And like Humpty, I had a great fall. And what I found made me shed a tear. The down-down accusations flew, We sang an obscene song or two.
Hey hasher, toss me another brew The day I found the hash. And as so often does occur, All the rest is just a blur. But I had lots of fun they say. And I kept going back for more. My old friends now seem such a bore. I prefer the hedonistic hashing way. Vacations are all hash road trips. New friends in each city, Exposing ass and titty. And now I will do a down-down. Ooo weee ooo ooo weee ooo ooo ooo, Hashing all week long! At the beer check, the blessed beer check, the Hasher shortcuts past.
In the shower, the public shower, the Hasher beats his meat. In the Circle, the drunken Circle, the Hasher drinks it down. There were three jolly hasher men, There were three jolly hasher men, There were three jolly hasher men, Hasher, Hasher, men, men, men, Hasher, Hasher, men, men, men, There were three jolly hasher men. They all went down on insert name of Hare or Harriette , They all went down on insert name of Hare or Harriette , They all went down on insert name of Hare or Harriette , They went, They went, down, down, down, They went, They went, down, down, down, They all went down on insert name of Hare or Harriette.
They should have gone down on the beer They should have gone down on the beer They should have gone down on the beer Drink it, Drink it, down, down, down, Drink it, Drink it, down, down, down, They should have gone down on the beer. Three visiting hashers came over here, parlez-vous, Three visiting hashers came over here, parlez-vous, Three visiting hashers came over here, To fuck our women and drink our beer, inky-dinky, parlez-vous. They came upon a down-down, etc. Pissed on the fire and drank a round, inky-dinky parlez-vous. Four calling girls, Three French whores, Two shit house doors, And a lube job in her fur tree.
Twelve heinous sins, Eleven hashers drinking, Ten tits a-swinging, Nine S. Four bimbos walking, Three hares a-laying, Two D. When all at once my radiator blew its top.
Well, I took a quick exit and drove around a bit. Now one thing was abundantly clear These folks could really drink some beer So I grabbed me a cup and poured myself a brew. They had co-ed showers with icy cold water that would shrink your dick down to the size of a quarter And I never did get all the soap outta my crack. They did the Full Monty and to my surprise A triple butt chug by these four nekkid guys. Yeah, there I was breakin all the rules that Ms. And the one team there I really noticed Was the one lead by this dude called Otis His team was Gay without a doubt.
Dashing down the trail, With a cooler full of brew, This beer tastes like hell, What can we hashers do? When we drink your fucking piss, It makes us fucking sick. From the distant dawn of mankind, To the present state of bliss, Evolution has refined us, And the proof is simply this:. Prehistoric treetop monkeys, Taught us how to jump and fuck, But they had no hashing spirit, That we have is our good luck. Cro-Magnon and other cavemen, Did not live for very long, They were just as wild as we are, But they got the hashing wrong. In the early Middle Ages, Nuns and monks had little fun, They had wine and fornication, But they lacked a decent run.
Billy Shakespeare wrote a sonnet, More than twenty pages long, All about the joys of hashing, We can do it in a song. Recent surveys of the country, Show that only magic will, Save the nation from perdition, And we have the saving skill. Girls and boys and other sexes, Stand up tall and sing out clear: We shall never be athletic, We just do it for the beer. Melody — Are You Lonesome Tonight? Were you lonesome tonight, Was the hash out of sight, Are you sorry you strayed from true trail?
Did your throat feel real dry, Underneath the hot sky, When you thought of the beer did you wail? Are the sores on your feet, raw and filled up with puss? When you gazed down the road, did you pray for a bus? Are your legs filled with pain, Will you shortcut again, Tell me fool, were you lonesome tonight? As you can tell Down-downs made me drunk as hell Look to the sky! The full moon is shining So On! And if you go chasing rabbits, You might just lose the trail, Til a whistle-blowing hasher, Will help lead you to the ale.
She said she was sorry, but what could she say, In that state of health, I could get me no lay.
I took out my pecker, such source of delight, For many a girl during many a night. And if they forgive me, as oft times before, I swear I will never be wanking no more. Why I ran that hash, Was so rash, But what the heck? Yesterday, Hashing seemed a healthy game to play, Now my body is in disarray, Oh I went hashing yesterday mmm-mm-mmm….. When I said you was high class, Well, that was just a lie, When I said you was high class, Well, that was just a lie. The other day boys, while we were hashing We saw our GM masturbate We saw two others auto-hashing And then the beer truck was late.
We showed up Friday and partied hardy, We fucked till morning, and then we partied. Played with eachother, and soon discovered, Your hand was made to stroke my gland. As we got closer, there was an odor, It was your pussy, upon my boner. Your tits were shaking, my balls were breaking, Your hand was made to stroke my gland. In Jacksonville we all came together, Showed tits and asses, despite the weather.
From the Emerald Coasters, to those with odors, Your hand was made to stroke my gland. Zippy the red-nosed Hasher, Had a bit too much to drink, And if you ever saw him. You would even say he stinks. All of the other Hashers, Used to laugh and call him names, They never let poor Zippy, Join in any orgy games.
Two — Three — Four. The Liberals want to lock me up because I kill the seal pups And tie their fur up into little bales. Which explains why hashers almost always sing the second version. Take turns leading verses. You can get it on with an iguana, Donna, You can get it on with an iguana, But only if you really wanna, Donna, You can get it on with an iguana. Rough love with a horse, Boris You gotta use force with a horse, Boris. Bitch, a dog, a female dog, Itch, a place for you to scratch, Hitch, I pull my knickers up, Grab, another word for snatch, Bath, a place for making gin, Sex, another word for sin, Prick, a needle going in, And that will bring us back to Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch.
Once a boy was no good, Took a girl into the wood, Bye, bye, blackbird. Laid her down upon the grass, Pinched her tits and slapped her ass, Bye, bye, blackbird. Took her where nobody else could find her, To a place where he could really grind her, Rolled her over on her front, Shoved his wank right up her cunt, Blackbird, bye, bye. But this girl she was no sport, Took her story to a court, Bye, bye, blackbird.
Told her story in the morn, All the jury had a horn, Bye, bye, blackbird. Then the judge came to his decision, The poor sod got eighteen months in prison, So next time, boy, do it right, Stuff her twat with dynamite, Blackbird, bye, bye. CHORUS: Cats on the rooftop, cats on the tiles, Cats with the clap and cats with piles, Cats with their arseholes wreathed in smiles, As they revel in the joys of fornication. The Australian lady emu when she wants to find a mate, Wanders round the desert with a feather up her date, You should see that feather, when she meets her destined fate, As she revels in the joys of fornication.
The poor domestic doggie, on his chain all day, Never gets a chance to get himself a lay, So he licks himself in a frantic way, As he revels in the joys of fornication. The dainty little skylark sings a very pretty song, He has a ponderous penis fully forty cubits long, You should hear his high crescendo, when his mate is on the prong, As he revels in the joys of fornication. The poor old rhinoceros, so it appears, Never gets a grind in a thousand years, But when he does, he makes up for arrears, As he revels in the joys of fornication.
The wild boar in the mud all day, Thinks of the sows that are far, far away, And the corkscrew motion of half a day, As he revels in the joys of masturbation. Now a funny old fish is the old sperm whale, With a funny little diddle tucked beneath his tail, And he rides his missus in the teeth of a gale, As he revels in the joys of fornication.
Now I met a girl who had a great rear, And she gave me a dose of gonorrhea, Fools rush in where angels fear, As I reveled in the joys of fornication. Long-legged curates grind like goats, Pale-faced spinsters shag like shoats, And the whole damn world stands about and gloats, As they revel in the joys of fornication. The ostrich in the desert is a solitary chick, Without the opportunity to dip its wick, But whenever it does, it slips in thick, As he revels in the joys of fornication. The flea disports among the trees, And there consorts with whom he please, To fill the land with bastard fleas, As he revels in the joys of fornication.
The camel likes to have his fun, His night is made when he is done, He always gets two humps for one, As he revels in the joys of fornication. The donkey is a lonely bloke, He hardly ever gets a poke, But when he does he lets it soak, As he revels in the joys of fornication. The hippopotamus, so it seems, Very, very rarely has wet dreams, But when he does he comes in streams, As he revels in the joys of fornication. A thousand verses all in rhyme, To sit and sing them seems a crime, When we could better spend our time, Reveling in the joys of fornication.
Who killed cock robin? When they heard cock robin Had kicked the fucking bucket! When they heard-d-d-d cock robin-n-n-n Had kicked the fucking bucket! Who saw him die? The cow kicked Nelly in the belly in the barn. Second verse, same as the first. Just a little bit louder and a little bit worse. The cuckoo is a funny bird, Who sits in the grass, With his wings neatly folded, And his beak up his ass.
One leg is missing, The other is gone, The third leg is shredded, All over the lawn. Dickey Louse scratchy muff! Forever may he hold your hairy crotch, Tight, Tight, Tight! Slowly D-I-C Eat you real soon! K-E-Y Why? Because I like you! Some Seventh Day Adventist went for a barbecue barbecue, barbecue Where they met some dingoes that could eat much more than you more than you, more than you.
Lindy packed some vegies, but those dingoes wanted meat wanted meat, wanted meat Kidneys and liver and arms and hands and feet hands and feet, hands and feet. Lindy got the lawyers, to fuck the government government, government For a million or more, enough to pay the rent pay the rent, pay the rent. The loser was the taxpayer, it usually is that way is that way, is that way Especially when those lawyers and journos have their say have their say, have their say.
The dingo is a noble beast, who merely likes to eat likes to eat, likes to eat And a veggie-reared Adventist, must have been a treat been a treat, been a treat. Journalists and lawyers, they are a rotten lot rotten lot, rotten lot It was them and not the dingo, that they should have shot should have shot, should have shot. The doggies held a meeting, They came from near and far, Some came by motorcycle, Some came by motorcar. Each doggy passed the entrance, Each doggy signed the book, Then each unshipped his arsehole, And hung it on the hook.
Sun came out and the pussy got hot. Kitty cat came on to my front porch. Rain came down and the pussy got wet. Wet pussy, such a friendly little cat. MMMM hot wet pussy. Kitty cat got in to my liquor one night. The GameBeach volleyball is Michelle's passion. She plays every chance she got. In addition to being very good at it, almost professional level, she also enjoyed the chance to put on her skimpy biking and showing off her tight, tan body. Michelle had taken note of another volleyball player that summer, a girl named Olivia. The DecisionTammy has a difficult choice to make.
Unfortunately, to do this, she has to go over the details of the worst night of her life. One night after a long night of work, she is seduced by this handsome man turned animal. As she relives the horror, she realizes that it was, in fact, a demon. Even worse, she has been feeling an odd sensation in her womb. Pleasure CruiseSteve is trying to get over a bad breakup, so he decides to take a vacation alone.
He knows that he has made the right choice when his innocent flirtation with the bartender seems to be paying off. Is everyone on the ship as friendly as she is? The EncounterShirl's always been skeptical of aliens and has done tons of research on UFOs and extraterrestrials. She never suspects that she's about to have a close encounter herself. Will they give Shirl the proof she needs to become a believer? Perfect RoommatesWhen Jennifer places an ad for a new roommate, she hardly dares hope that she will find her perfect roommate and the ideal living situation.
When her new roommate Ann arrives, she has a flicker of hope. Ann is beautiful and sexy and there seems to be a bit of a spark between the two of them. Help Centre. My Wishlist Sign In Join. Be the first to write a review. Add to Wishlist. Ships in 7 to 10 business days. Link Either by signing into your account or linking your membership details before your order is placed. Description Product Details Click on the cover image above to read some pages of this book! In Stock. The Mister.
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