Cult Gathering

My Beer Wench

I wish I owned a beer wench
who would beer me at a yell
She would my thirsty thirst doth quench
and quench it very well

Her teeth would be half missin'
her hair a pretty mess
a trap not meant for kissin'
and a dirty leather dress.

I'd love my wench to bits
To me she would be gold
She know which kind of beer I drank
And damnwell keep it cold

Olga her name doth be
I'd feed her only sweets
I yell at her for two beer
and a snapper for da reetz

Out from under the stairs she'd run
three beers drippin' icy
A steaming bowl up on her head
full of wings, all hot n' spicy

My wench would be all smelly
My wench would always swear
My wench would fart and belch and spit
and I wouldn't even care

All my friends will want one
Jealous as can be
but to own a wench is not for all
well, everyone but me