Back in the early 1970s I was in the Army with an old warrant officer who had spent some time in Alaska. Here is his version of "The Ballad of Dangerous Dan McGrew":

A bunch of us lads was hoopin' up at one of the Yukon halls.
The boy who plays the music box was viciously scratching his balls.
Faro Jim had his mitts in the quim of some ol' babe name of Lou,
And there on the floor on top of a whore lay Dangerous Dan McGrew.

When out of the night as black as a bitch and into the din and smoke
Came a crusty ol' prick just up from the crick with dusty ol' load in his poke.
As he shouldered his way through the flea-bitten crowd he clutched at the crotch of his pants.
He looked like a man with a dose of the clap in last stages of St. Vitus dance.

His britches were split and covered with spit. They looked like the white of an egg.
His balls hung low. They swung to and fro each time that he moved his leg.
His face was as red as a baboon's arse and the passion within him burned.
He broke out his jock to display to the flock and everyone's arsehole squirmed.

In his tattered old clothes he was ready to hose any bitch the got in his way.
He dangled his dong in his calloused palm and screamed that he wanted to play.
The lights went out! As I ducked to the floor, the stranger sprang in the dark.
His aim was true, the sparks they flew, his donniger found its mark.

With farts and moans and blood-curdlin' groans three figures were stacked in the gloom.
With farts and moans and blood-curdlin' groans a man's shrieks filled the room.
The lights came on. The stranger arose with a satisfied look on his pan.
And there on the floor with his arsehole tore lay poor ol' cornholed Dan.