Kolkata a shitty shit hole by the sea,
Lives fucked folks, as fucked as can be.
With invisible hats on their heads,
And prudish pajamas for threads,
They sip pee swinging from a tree.
In this corny corner, you should know,
Folks shit upside down, walking to and fro.
Naked with a skip and a twirl,
Leaders chaperone laity, the pimps their girls,
Dance on hands while their assholes let go.
In their gardens, they plant dessert,
Sandesh and rosogolla, with mango tart.
With piss sprinkled like holy rain,
This masochism engenders in life pain,
The diabetic plays the future part.
In kolkata, a shady past is stowed away,
Tales of its false history, echo night and day.
Folks with bootleg wonder and cheer,
Hoodwinked, dream of visiting near,
To get ass raped the bengali way.
So they journey, they are rave,
To kolkata, the turd by the sewer wave.
Across the howrah bridge in traffic tide,
With shit bubbles gurgling inside,
To partake in the ass gaping they crave.
They galumph to sonagachhi with glee,
Variety of vaginas, lucked to see,
Fucked fucks of all types,
In cheap and vulgar horny stripes,
Right in the pickpockets' spree!
For in this shit boiling pot full of mirth,
Some pickpockets prey on visitors' worth,
So a string from penis to your purse,
Let the party pooping robbers curse.
More fun, free erection, no dearth.
That string will get pulled a lot,
In summer red lights are fucking red hot.
For getting raped, choose winter time,
Also visit darjeeling, diseased but less crime.
But to take the lid off this ginormous lie,
In this city of joy, you must shit, before you die.
