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She was far from small, as I recall |
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And a rather cumly lass |
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All men would say, as she passed their way |
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"what a love piece of aaaaaaaa..." |
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Ask her where she came from, she'd say |
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"My lips are sealed" |
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But a good guess would be Bristol |
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Or possibly Tenfield |
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And in every pub in Snodland |
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They still do speak her name |
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She was a sport - or so I heard |
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And did play many games |
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The soul of men's discretion |
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She did not mention names |
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She loved to go horse racing |
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And her phone was studied hard |
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But didn't need a race track |
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To go right through the guard |
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And in every pub in Snodland |
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They still do speak her name |
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One day I did go off with her |
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And played in the hay |
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She promised me most anything |
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Just to have me stay |
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She whispered "Come here, darling. |
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Come lover, please draw near. |
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You're going where no man has been" |
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I said "What ? In your ear ?!" |
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And in every pub in Snodland |
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They still do speak her name |
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We knew not where she came from |
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But since the day she went |
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We all do sadly miss her |
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In our little heart of Kent |
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In every pub in Snodland |
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They still do sing this song |
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"Vagina was her name, |
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Virgin for short" |
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But we all knew - not for long ! |
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And in every pub in Snodland |
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They still do speak her name |
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And in every pub in Snodland |
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They still do speak her name |
