Bernard Wrigley
I've heard some say the tales of Nelly are both coarse and shocking
But you must agree it's plain to see how she got the nickname 'Knocking'
She served out her apprenticeship, she took on large and small
In taxis, dustbins, passing cars, and behind the Palais wall

Last week she meets a foreign bloke, from gay Paree he hails 
Though Nelly guessed his accent was from somewhere North of Wales
He took her to the pictures and he starts to wine and dine her
So she promises that afterwards they'd have a sixty-niner

The french bloke ponders 'Sixty nine?' and thinks 'What can zis be?'
He counts his toes and fingers but gets stuck at thirty three
Perhaps zis is ze number where she lives or else of course
She's speaking in Norwegian, for her face is like a Norse' 

When they get back to Nelly's place she says 'Lets have some fun
Forget that in the car just then, we've only just begun'
She rips her tights and bloomers off, and likewise Pierre's too
Then says 'Get in position now, I'll show you what to do'

But as they lie upon the bed a pain befalls our Nelly 
The meal was free, she ate too much, now there's wind inside her belly
She moves her legs to ease the pain but then to her surprise
The wind it breaks and Pierre gets it right between the eyes.

She brings him round with smelling salts, she very nearly blew it 
But there was more in store for him if Pierre only knew it
Not only did her wind act up while locked in the next embrace
But she'd eaten so many peanuts that she'd pebble-dashed his face

'Oh pardon me,' our Nelly says, 'you must think the worst of me' 
And Pierre's dearly wishing we hadn't joined the EEC
No sooner were they back again when a mighty sonic boom
Had blown Pierre from off the bed twelve feet across the room

He slumped down in the corner feeling like a busted welly 
He propped himself on his elbows then and looked across at Nelly
She moved to speak but Pierre gasped and shouted out, 'Oh please
How can you expect me to stand another sixty six of these?'
The end