The boy stood on the burning deck,
His ass against the mast,
He would not move a bloody inch,
'till Montague had past,
But Montague was craft, he threw the boy a plum,
And when he went to pick it up,
He shoved it up his bum.

Anddd

The boy stood on the burning deck,
Wishing he'd never been born,
His mother said he wouldn't,
If the condom hadn't been torn.

Both of those were taught to me by my uncle when I was a kid (RIP)