The Postman (Or Slaughter Of Mr. Radeck)

The bell rings vehemently

The post will vary the while to granny

She is rushing to the wicket

And she is looking forward to a white letter

She is taking by the handle and opening the wicket

She is beholding the postman Radek at the doorstep

'Radek, little Radek, what do you have for me?

You will give me a letter from my daughter, won't you?'

'Oh, granny, be sure that I will,' he answers kindly

He is reaching for a letter in the satchel and giving it to her

He gives thanks for thanks

But suddenly he is asking her,

'Granny, I have a little request for you,

I want to poop, can I come in?'

'Of course - come in.'

In the latrine he has put out a knife from the satchel

He was so fascinated

That he puckered the eyebrows

Now he's stealing to the cottage

And ragely stabbing the granny

The blood is splashing on tiles

On the stove and the baskets

He enjoyed her as a swine

What will he do with this filth?

As usual,

He is jacking off

He must also catch

He must also catch the morning post.