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letra de god save the queen’s cunt [2020 version] - kunt and the gang

[intro]
bada-bada, bop-bop-ba-dadada
bada-bada, bop-bop-ba-dadada
bada-bada, bop-bop-ba-dadada
bada-bada, bop-bop-ba-da

[verse 1]
there’s a bloke called alan farthing
gynecologist to the royals
he’s had to sign the official secrets act
for the fannies over which he toils
you see, he’s fondled fergie’s f-ck-flaps
and he’s fisted princess di
he’s seen middleton’s m-ff, and markle’s minge
and camilla parker-bowles’ brown eye
but there’s one v-g-n- that tops the list –
it’s the pride of alan’s c.v
it’s ninety years old, it’s got grey p-b-s
trimmed as neat as neat can bе!

[chorus]
the queen’s c-nt
the queen’s c-nt
it’s the poshеst minge in britain
i say that without a doubt
the queen’s c-nt
(god save it – god save the queen’s c-nt!)
the queen’s c-nt
(god save it – god save the queen’s c-nt!)
you would have to suck a peppermint
if you were going to l!ck it out

[bridge]
(god save it – god save the queen’s c-nt!)
(god save it – god save the queen’s c-nt!)
(god save it – god save the queen’s c-nt!)
(god save it – god save the queen’s c-nt!)
[spoken:] if one is going to drink from the furry cup – one has to hold one’s finger up!

[verse 2]
the royal box must be the jewel in the crown
of alan farthing’s repertoire
it’s got a crest with a lion and a unicorn on
that reads: ‘dieu et mon droit’ (ooh-la-la!)
it has grade ii listed l-b–
and a preserving order on her cl-t
there’s a pair of beefeaters standing guard
at the entrance to her slit!
the queen’s-queen’s too posh to have a c-ck inserted
so one of her servants applied
some silken gloves to hold her f-ck-flaps apart
while her butler went feeling inside
since he retired from pubic duty
the duke of edinburgh’s got blue b-lls (blue b-lls!)
now the only thing allowed up the queen’s c-nt
is a d-ld- made of jewels!
[chorus]
the queen’s c-nt
the queen’s c-nt
it’s not the kind of c-nt
where you or i would get to sp-nk

the queen’s c-nt
(god save it – god save the queen’s c-nt!)
the queen’s c-nt
(god save it – god save the queen’s c-nt!)
it’s not the type of c-nt
that one might see when one is drunk

the queen’s c-nt
(god save it – god save the queen’s c-nt!)
the queen’s c-nt
(god save it – god save the queen’s c-nt!)
is the poshest sn-tch in britain
without a shadow of a doubt

the queen’s c-nt
(god save it – god save the queen’s c-nt!)
the queen’s c-nt
(god save it – god save the queen’s c-nt!)
it smells so much like truffles
a little pig could sniff it out
[outro]
(god save it – god save the queen’s c-nt!)
(god save it – god save the queen’s c-nt!)
(god save it – god save the queen’s c-nt!)
(god save it – god save the queen’s c-nt!)

- kunt and the gang

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