Tales of Kuchsmann

Well, I gather that you are a lady of taste For love that is rabid and rampantly paced So grease up your saddle, I'll bring out the stud His name is Hudson Kuchsmann - he'll answer to Hud Once he brought a comtessa To the uppermost peaks of delight Her rapturous screams Shattered the glass 'ere she died You may not make it through the night Hud, he was born to a life of carnal sin The doctor first thought him a siamese twin His mother, the poor thing, survived not his birth On her face was a smile of orgasmic mirth Once he satisfied twelve maids at once None of them homely or plain Seven of them went insane From the pleasure and pain Five of them never walked again Well, I gather that you are a lady of taste For love that is rabid and rampantly paced So grease up your saddle, I'll bring out the stud His name is Hudson Kuchsmann - he'll answer to Hud Once he caused a disaster Just by walking through a park in the nude Every woman lost her mind, Every man was turned into a fruit And all the children grew up lewd