With custard laughs, and steaming bones
Charley put on his britches and stole a jug
And saddled up, he rode it to Banbury Cross
To the far off place he can privately chug
..
And on the way out there he met a prilly boy
His ways were quite queer with a bottle atop his head
So Charley garnished a cob shaped rock
Breaking the bottle and pronouncing the queer dead
..
But taking a fancy to the prilly's flashy footwear
And claiming them as his own, he did a jiggy
While intimately lowering his blazing joint
And putting his cob shaped rock back in the piggy
..
Without sacrificing his intellect, Charley resumed
Banbury was just over the hill and through the thicket
A thicket so thick, a licking stick couldn't lick it
With finger deep in his nose he slowly picked it
..
And carefully he took to picking his way through
All the while the town was aging and growing
With carbuncles and antique ideologies galore
More jugs to be had and alcohol for flowing
..
But then poor Charley skewered his nose on a tree
Being stuck for one hour, three hours, and ten
Oozing in masses with snotty blood nuggets
Just like the many others stuck with the other men