She were the best the camp produced, boys, And them what she aint goosed aint had no goose, and never will For the Lords raked in poor Lady Lill.
There was a standing bet in our town There warnt a Geezer fer miles around Could screw her to a finish, and ther warnt, Till one day Sly Pete, an ole galoot, Came wandering in from Scraggins Chute And won it, boys, when he took his prick out thar, An laid it down acrost the bar, We fellers knewed we seen Lills fate. But thar warnt no backin out that late. So we arranged to have the mill Behind the school house on the hill, Where all the boys could see it.
Lill's start was like the summer breeze That softly sways the cypress trees. But when Lill screwed boys, she screwed for keeps, And piled her victims up in heeps. Lill screwed around and screwed unyil She screwed the grass clean off the hill. She tried her bunts and double bunts And all the tricks whats knowed to cunts. But Pete was with her every lick, Still letting out more prick. Lill has her boots on when she fell; So what the Hell boys, what the Hell?