Now the admirable Admiral Adam Merrill
had merrily retired from a life of peril
He sailed the lake alone,
a pleasure yacht his home,
and through binoculars his eyes did roam

Well Marge was a'bathin' out in the shine
Even zoomed in as he was, she looked mighty fine
Her cheeks like red balloons,
the admiral cried out "Zounds!
A woman who shares my multiple spear gun wounds!"

And the scars formed a constellation
that foretold their consummation
via repeated copulation
in the ol' coot's fantasy

And he blasted on his fog horn
scand'lous Morse code "captain's log" porn
Yes, he was a reverse dog-horn
tryin' hard at seducin' the not-so-petite cherie

Well that sort'a thing'd make any hubby jealous
and it didn't help that in this case it was a fella named Gus
With not-inconsid'rable vim
he leapt from the barge's rim
and nearly drowned 'fore he remembered how to swim

But the stroke to the yacht left Gus depleted
and by the cagey vet he was swiftly defeated
So to the son of Gus,
Marge said "Hey, y'li'l cuss,
now to your daddy's aid, a'come y'mus'"

And the boy didn't make a sound,
he just brung that barge around
then quickly throttled down
tryin' hard to help his dad

And it smashed in like a lance,
like the Nazis into France,
and that gave ol' Gus the chance
to boot his rival in the nad

It was the only nad he had