We interrupt this thread for a lyrical interlude:
(Cue music…)
Do your balls hang low?
Can you swing them to and fro?
Can you tie ‘em in a knot?
Can you tie ‘em in a bow?
Do you ever get the feeling
When they hit against the ceiling
That you’ll never be a sailor
If your balls hang low?
CHORUS:
Ting-a-ling, God damn,
Find a woman if you can.
If you can’t find a woman,
Find a clean old man.
If you’re ever in Gibraltar,
Take a flying fuck at Walter.
Can you do the double shuffle,
When your balls hang low?
Do your balls hang low?
Do they swing to and fro?
Can you tie ‘em in a knot?
Can you tie ‘em in a bow?
*Can you throw ‘em o’er your shoulder,
*Like a Continental soldier?
Can you do the double shuffle,
When your balls hang low?
*Additional verses for lines marked ‘*’:
When your bollocks hang right down,
Do they drag along the ground?
Do they make a lusty clamor,
When you hit them with a hammer?
Can you bounce ‘em off the wall,
Like an Indian rubber ball?
Do your dingly-dangly gonads,
Roam about like desert nomads?
Do they ever start to hurt,
Cos they’re dragging in the dirt?
Do they have a hollow sound,
When you drop ‘em on the ground?
Do they have a mellow tingle,
When you hit ‘em with a shingle?
Do they have a salty taste,
When you wrap ‘em ‘round your waist?
Do they chime just like a gong,
When you pull upon your dong?
Do they dangle in the dust,
When you’re overcome with lust?
Does the long drop of your bollocks,
Interfere with sexual frolics?