For years we've known that he's a fucking pig,
(He's lead us all right down the garden path),
But now we know that he's a Piggy-Whig,
It seems that it's our turn to have a laugh.
So he wakes up with his dear darling wife,
And holds up a black mirror to that face,
And it remains forever in his life,
A particularly public fall from grace.
You wash it off but it won't go away,
Your little willy went between those lips
And it is there no matter what you say,
The image that no picture will eclipse...
"...PM who just can't control his hard-ons,
Munching on a plate of greasy lardons..."