Medieval Bush Lyrics - Stephen Lynch

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Come, fair lady to mine bed, we go,
And verily sweet pleasures we shall know,
Yet, where thy belly meets thy limb,
I beseech thee give a trim,
For thy bush doth overflow,

Milady doth have a 70's muff,
A 1470's muff hmmm,

Zounds, it's as prickly as a Christmas wreath,
Think, it might hide some baby birds, beneath,
Pray, shave it off to make a coat,
There are fur balls down mine throat,
Short and curlies twixt my teeth,
I sayeth not thy vagina is hirsute,
But it looketh like thou hast buckwheat in a leg lock hmmm,

But soft, what hair through yonder girdle grows,
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To be or not to be put in corn rows,
Oh, it is beastly and unruly,
And it smelleth of patchouli,
And that offends my nose,

I sayeth not thou art furry down there,
But it doth resemble Fidel Castro eating a London broil hmmm.

Pra la la la la la la la la la la la la
Pra la la la la la la la la medieval bush



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------ Performed by Stephen Lynch

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------ 10/01/2014

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