Now the sons of the prophet were randy and bold, not scared of the dread gonorrhea, And the randiest far in the ranks of the Shah, Was Abdul Abul Bul Amir. Horny heroes were common and well known to fame, In the ranks that were kept by the Czar, But the best at the game was a man by the name, of Ivan Skavinsky Skavar. Once a traveling brothel had come to the town Which attracted the rams from afar, And the foremost of them that so consistantly came, Were Abdul and Ivan Skavar. One night this bold Russian had bathed it in rum, Then powdered his fine grinding gear; Down town he did go, where he pissed on the toe, Of Abdul Abul Bul Amir. For it happened like this, both had gone for a piss Being full of the strong local beer; And the spray from his root spattered on the left boot, Of Abdul Abul Bul Amir. Quoth Abdul, 'My friend, I don't wish to offend But this really is going too far. You're not only a Jew but you're cut on the skew Mister Ivan Skavinsky Skavar!' Said Ivan, 'You git, you despicable shit, You should not have been standing so near; there's a stall up the end meant for kiddies my friend, Mister Abdul Abul Bul Amir.' So this bold Mamaluke shook the piss from his boot With a cry of 'Allah Akbar! I've ten roubles to bet I'll fuck more than you yet Mister Ivan Skavinsky Skavar!' To the race bounded they where the brothel train lay And for once did not stop at the bar But explained to the Dame the rules of the game Between Abdul and Ivan Skavar. She kept whores of all sorts, some tall and some short, And a choice of young boys for the queer; So with giggles and screams they all formed in two teams Before Ivan and Abdul Amir. When the word got about all the town tumbled out To bet on the winner and cheer, And soon multitudes came, so great was the fame, Of Ivan and Abdul Amir. They fucked several women, they buggered some boys, And Abdul's arse revved like a car; But most felt he'd no hope 'gainst the slow steady stroke Of Ivan Skavinsky Skavar. When the score reached eight eight the Madam did state, 'We cannot stay much longer I fear, Since they're both out of juice, why not now call a truce, Between Ivan and Abdul Amir?' Neither one would admit he was no longer fit, Each claimed he could fuck for a year. 'Bring on lemons and lime, this is only half time,' Shouted Abdul Abul Bul Amir. But the Madam cried 'No!' - the train had to go, She had bookings next day from the Czar, And she could not afford to have all her staff floored By Abdul and Ivan Skavar. Though they begged her to stay she would have no delay And locked all of her staff in the car; As the train rumbled out you could hear bookies shout It was odds on young Ivan Skavar! As he stood on the track with his tool hanging slack He thought no defence for his rear; He felt something hot whistle straight up his bot, it was Abdul Abul Bul Amir! And the cream of the joke when at last they were broke - It was laughed at for years by the Czar - Old Abdul the fool left the flange of his tool Up the ringpiece of Ivan Skavar! A vast monolith stands where the Blue Danube flows And inscribed there in characters clear: 'O stranger when passing remember the tool Of Abdul Abul Bul Amir.' By the banks of the Volga, they tell me at night Ghostly screams can be heard from afar, As dead surgeons of class try to ream out the arse, Of the ghost of young Ivan Skavar.

• published: 29 Jan 2014
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