This is the story of Eric de Vine,
A boy would only answer in rhyme,
It drove his mum scatty, it drove his dad mad,
And his Gran, she did say, You’re for it, me lad.
You’re going to your auntie who lives in Glen Carse,
With a flea in your ear and a boot up your arse.
So he arrived with his suitcase, his Aunt said, hello,
But Eric replied, fuck you, you old hoe.
So the Aunt said to Eric, oh dear, you’re a mess,
We’ll see how you fare in the wilds of Loch Ness,
And on the dead stroke of midnight he was thrown on the shore,
But he just lit a fire, said, this is a bore.
When a monster reared up its slimy old head,
Said, I’ll just eat this lad and then go to bed,
And he roared and he roared like a scalded old maid,
But Eric he said, oh, I’m really afraid.
And he roarèd right back, he had it verbatim,
Which pissed off the monster, who quite promptly ate him.