There were four-and-twenty virgins coming up from Inverness,
and when the ball was over there were four-and-twenty less.
Swing your balls to your partner and your arse against the wall.
If you do't get fucked on a Saturday night, you never get fucked at all.
There was fucking in the kitchen, there was fucking in the halls,
you could't hear the music for the clanging of the balls.
Swing your balls ...
Farmer Giles was there, sickle in his hand.
Every time he swung around, he circumcised the band.
Swing your balls ...
The village vicar he was there, and in a corner sat.
Amusing himself by abusing himself, and catching it all in
his hat.
Swing your balls ...
The village cripple he was there, he was't up too much.
He lined them up against the wall, and fucked them with his crutch.
Swing your balls ...
The village idiot he was there, sitting on a pole.
He pulled his foreskin over his head, and whistled through the hole.
Swing your balls...
Now little Tommy he was there, but he was only eight.
He could't fuck the women so he had to masturbate.
Swing your balls...
The postman, he was also there, the poor man had the pox.
He could't fuck the lassies so he fucked the letter-box.
Swing your balls...
The examinator, he was there, working out a sum;
he figured out by logarithms the time that he would come.
Swing your balls...
Jock the parson, he was there, it was a bloody shame;
loved a lassie thirty times and never knew her name.
Swing your balls...
Winston Churchill, he was there, down behind the bar,
and when he could't get it up, he used his big cigar.
Swing your balls...
And when the ball was over, then everyone confessed.
They all enjoyed the music but the fucking was the best!
Swing your balls...