Ivan Scavinsky Scavar

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The harems of Egypt are fine to behold, 
The harlots the fairest of fair,
But the fairest, a Greek, was owned by a sheikh, 
Named Abdul Abulbul Emir.

A travelling brothel came down from the north, 
'Twas run privately for the Tsar,
Who wagered a hundred no one could out shag, 
Ivan Scavinsky Scavar.

A great fucking contest was set for the day, 
A holiday proclaimed by the Tsar,
And the streets were all lined with harlots assigned, 
To Ivan Scavinsky Scavar.

Old Abdul arrived with a snatch by his side, 
His eye bore a leer of desire,
He claimed he could prong more cunts with his dong, 
Than Ivan Scavinsky Scavar.

They met on the track with their pricks at the slack, 
A starter's gun punctured the air,
They were both quick to rise, the crowd gasped at the size,
Of Abdul Abulbul Emir.

The cunts were all shorn and no rubbers were worn, 
On the prongs of the pimp and the peer,
But the pimp's steady stoke soon left without hope,
The chance of the Abulbul Emir.

When Ivan had finished, he turned to the Greek,
And laughed as she shook with great fear,
She swallowed his pride: he buggered the bride,
Of Abdul Abulbul Emir.

So Ivan had won and he shouldered his gun,
He bent down to polish his gear,
When something red hot up his back passage shot,
'Twas Abdul Abulbul Emir.

The harlots turned green, the crowd shouted "Queen !"
They were ordered apart by the Tsar,
'Twas bloody bad luck for Abdul was stuck,
Up Ivan Scavinsky Scavar.

Now the cream of the joke when apart they were broke,
Was laughed at for years by the Tsar,
For Abdul the fool, left half his tool,
Up Ivan Scavinsky Scavar.

The fair Grecian maiden a sad vigil keeps,
With a husband whose tastes have turned queer,
She longs for the dong that once did belong,
To Abdul Abulbul Emir.

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