| Axe Wielding Nuns
|
| Axe Wielding Nuns
|
| A battle weary knight sometimes needs a rest
|
| To place his heavy head on a wench’s breast
|
| Where the horse is well kept and his sword well oiled
|
| His undergarments washed when they’ve been soiled
|
| There is near Bagger Bridge such a place
|
| To bring a smile to a knight’s long face
|
| To veer off a battle my stallion runs
|
| To the convents of Axe Wielding Nuns
|
| Axe Wielding Nuns
|
| Axe Wielding
|
| Hell hath no fury like the Axe Wielding Nuns
|
| Like a fire branded crucifix between the buns
|
| Mother superior doth speak with grace
|
| But if needs must she can handle her mace
|
| The art of fighting is a solemn vow
|
| Thousands are certain common know how
|
| They’re gracious interluder for they’re chance to fight
|
| For the glory of battle and a hot steamy knight
|
| For another chance when they are able to wield
|
| The double headed axe and the blazing shield
|
| Axe Wielding Nuns
|
| Axe Wielding
|
| Hell hath no fury like the Axe Wielding Nuns
|
| Like a fire branded crucifix between the buns
|
| Axe Wielding Nuns
|
| Axe Wielding Nuns
|
| Axe Wielding Nuns
|
| Axe Wielding Nuns
|
| When we ride out to meet our foes
|
| A little surprise keeps them on their toes
|
| For following behind is a garrison of nuns
|
| Some heavily pregnant with bastard sons
|
| They swing their axes with gusto and might
|
| 'tis oft our enemies off get a fright
|
| At the sight of somersaulting nuns at arms
|
| Axes in hand and cleaving fucking skulls
|
| Axe Wielding Nuns … |