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Mountaineers 2.0 - extremely NSFW
[This is an update of a folk song which traveled across America with the pioneers, and made it to California. Certain objectionable passages have been modified to better fit modern sensibilities, and new verses added. It remains extremely non work safe and obscene.]
The mountaineers have hairy ears.
And bulging leather britches.
They bang their cocks against the rocks.
They're hardy sons of bitches.
Those mountaineers, they give three cheers
For Hell and all its trifles.
They hang their balls upon the walls
And snipe at them with rifles
The mountaineers, they're hung like steers.
They'll shag a yawning chasm.
They flop their nuts against their butts,
And shoot a mean orgasm.
The mountaineers, they love their beers,
And quaff one every minute.
They drain their jocks in big stone crocks,
And wash their dishes in it.
The mountaineers, they shed no tears.
They're full of quips and frolics.
They poop foul gas from out their ass
To cool their iron bollocks.
Those mountaineers can shift their gears
And shit in all directions.
They wipe their ass on broken glass
Or on their proud erections.
Those mountaineers with hoots and jeers
Bewail a cuntless nation.
They jab their tools in gals and dudes
And abandoned masturbation.
Those mountaineers, they have no fears
Of crab-infested niches.
They scratch their pricks with sandy bricks
When annoyed by lousy itches.
They pound their cocks upon the rocks,
Those hardy sons of bitches.
They wipe their ass with broken glass,
And care not if it itches.
When tail is rare, they seduce the bears,
And tie them in half hitches,
Nor hesitate to masturbate
Within their leather britches.
They use their pricks for walking sticks
In crossing muddy ditches.
They fuck their wives with hilts of knives
And flog their butts with switches.
They brew their booze from boots and shoes,
A drink they seem to relish.
They shave their jaws with crosscut saws,
Which makes them look quite hellish.
They always are quite kind, you know,
To ladies and to babies.
But with bitches and in the ditches
They fuck like minks with rabies.
From dark till dawn with one bone on,
They fuck their horny wenches.
Then the wenches don strap-ons
And give their men attentions
From dawn till dark, they beat their bark
And screw knotholes in benches.
How they toy with grrls and bois
is too obscene to mention.
With limber tools they screw in twos
And warm each others' britches.
With stiffened cocks they pry up rocks
And boost Fords out of ditches.
The mountain lass has quite a gash.
They crack nuts in their snatches.
They love to screw an hour or two
Bare-ass in bramble patches.
The mountain twat is boiling hot.
It covers pricks with blisters.
A stranger once tried lapping cunts
And singed off all his whiskers.
Those hardy cunts use double shunts
And mighty heaves and passes,
That pull the pricks of common hicks
And set them on their asses.
The lass ne'er despair when prick is rare,
But frig themselves with cactus,
Or mount dildos in all their holes
Which gives them lots of practice.
Mountaineers grow everything,
In any soil they are master.
Every crop recovers clean
From any and all disaster.
They grow the ganja and the weed
And cannabis sativa
Beware the joint they roll and point
A puff will leave you weaving.
Mountaineers brew beer and spirits
From any slash on offer
If you drink more than a sip,
You're drunker than a potter
The earth can shake and quake
And land slide down like water
The mountaineer just laughs and laughs
And builds his campfire hotter.
Wildfires can overrun both the forest and the fauna,
The mountaineer just rebuilds
And makes his home the stronger
The mountaineer's a pioneer,
He goes just where he pleases.
When others try to chase him off
They're the ones who end up leaving.
Should invaders come into his hills,
To take away his nation
The mountaineer's a rifleman
and a skilled marauder.
In time of peace, he's meek as mice
Until someone seeks to be his master
Then by fair or foul, by hook or cowl,
He makes them run off even faster
The mountaineer's neither straight nor queer,
He likes to fuck with relish
He tells orgy bedtime tales
He has no need to embellish.
Every word of this is true
This proud poetic stanza
The mountaineer's got hairy ears
And his life is a bonanza!
The mountaineers have hairy ears.
And bulging leather britches.
They bang their cocks against the rocks.
They're hardy sons of bitches.
Those mountaineers, they give three cheers
For Hell and all its trifles.
They hang their balls upon the walls
And snipe at them with rifles
The mountaineers, they're hung like steers.
They'll shag a yawning chasm.
They flop their nuts against their butts,
And shoot a mean orgasm.
The mountaineers, they love their beers,
And quaff one every minute.
They drain their jocks in big stone crocks,
And wash their dishes in it.
The mountaineers, they shed no tears.
They're full of quips and frolics.
They poop foul gas from out their ass
To cool their iron bollocks.
Those mountaineers can shift their gears
And shit in all directions.
They wipe their ass on broken glass
Or on their proud erections.
Those mountaineers with hoots and jeers
Bewail a cuntless nation.
They jab their tools in gals and dudes
And abandoned masturbation.
Those mountaineers, they have no fears
Of crab-infested niches.
They scratch their pricks with sandy bricks
When annoyed by lousy itches.
They pound their cocks upon the rocks,
Those hardy sons of bitches.
They wipe their ass with broken glass,
And care not if it itches.
When tail is rare, they seduce the bears,
And tie them in half hitches,
Nor hesitate to masturbate
Within their leather britches.
They use their pricks for walking sticks
In crossing muddy ditches.
They fuck their wives with hilts of knives
And flog their butts with switches.
They brew their booze from boots and shoes,
A drink they seem to relish.
They shave their jaws with crosscut saws,
Which makes them look quite hellish.
They always are quite kind, you know,
To ladies and to babies.
But with bitches and in the ditches
They fuck like minks with rabies.
From dark till dawn with one bone on,
They fuck their horny wenches.
Then the wenches don strap-ons
And give their men attentions
From dawn till dark, they beat their bark
And screw knotholes in benches.
How they toy with grrls and bois
is too obscene to mention.
With limber tools they screw in twos
And warm each others' britches.
With stiffened cocks they pry up rocks
And boost Fords out of ditches.
The mountain lass has quite a gash.
They crack nuts in their snatches.
They love to screw an hour or two
Bare-ass in bramble patches.
The mountain twat is boiling hot.
It covers pricks with blisters.
A stranger once tried lapping cunts
And singed off all his whiskers.
Those hardy cunts use double shunts
And mighty heaves and passes,
That pull the pricks of common hicks
And set them on their asses.
The lass ne'er despair when prick is rare,
But frig themselves with cactus,
Or mount dildos in all their holes
Which gives them lots of practice.
Mountaineers grow everything,
In any soil they are master.
Every crop recovers clean
From any and all disaster.
They grow the ganja and the weed
And cannabis sativa
Beware the joint they roll and point
A puff will leave you weaving.
Mountaineers brew beer and spirits
From any slash on offer
If you drink more than a sip,
You're drunker than a potter
The earth can shake and quake
And land slide down like water
The mountaineer just laughs and laughs
And builds his campfire hotter.
Wildfires can overrun both the forest and the fauna,
The mountaineer just rebuilds
And makes his home the stronger
The mountaineer's a pioneer,
He goes just where he pleases.
When others try to chase him off
They're the ones who end up leaving.
Should invaders come into his hills,
To take away his nation
The mountaineer's a rifleman
and a skilled marauder.
In time of peace, he's meek as mice
Until someone seeks to be his master
Then by fair or foul, by hook or cowl,
He makes them run off even faster
The mountaineer's neither straight nor queer,
He likes to fuck with relish
He tells orgy bedtime tales
He has no need to embellish.
Every word of this is true
This proud poetic stanza
The mountaineer's got hairy ears
And his life is a bonanza!