There are of course many versions, and I suppose any three-syllable place name will do. (There is, of course, one Winnepeg whore who has an entire song about her.) The one I like is:

Four old whores of Liverpool
Were drinking sherry wine,
And one said to the other,
"Yours is no bigger than mine."

"You're a liar," said the second one,
"For mine's as big as the sea.
The ships sail in and the ships sail out
And never bother me."

"You're a liar," said the third one,
"For mine's as big as the air.
The ships sail in and the ships sail out
And never tickle a hair."

"You're a liar," said the fourth one,
"For mine's as big as the moon.
The ships sail in at the first of the year
And never come out till June."

"You're all liars," said the first one,
"For mine's the biggest of all.
The ships sail in at the first of the year
And never come out at all."

Nice surrealism -- and, if you are a Freudian, a hint of castration anxiety too.