HASHERS GO RUNNING ONE BY ONE
Tune: The Ants Go Running One By One
Source: Horntip Collection - Half-Mind Hymnal 2011
Lyrics
By Smoking Wiener, Rocket Shitty HHH
The hashers go running one by one, On-On! On-On! The hashers go running one by one, On-On! On-On! The hashers go running one by one, The little one stops to shoot his cum. And they all go running down to the ground To get out of the shite, boom, boom, boom!
Two by two - have a screw Three by three - take a pee Four by four - slam a whore Five by five - go muff dive Six by six - pick up tricks Seven by seven - pinch eleven Eight by eight - masturbate Nine by nine - do a line Ten by ten - get laid again
HASHER’S LAMENT Recital By Dave “Mad Major” Marks, Bicester HHH, England
You wakey inner morny All snuggle in yore bed, You rubby eyes an yorney, A poundin in yore ‘ead, “It’s someday,” someone seddy, “You musket up, get reddy, It snearly arfpasten.”
You up then jolly quicky An almose innner flash, Still feelin somewot sicky You off to join to join the Hash. An very sooney arfter You very somewhere else, Amid the shoutsen larfter Outside a pubic howse.
Awl roun are many bodies All jobby upan down, While some with big beer poddies Are lyin’ on the groun. Then on that dredful ower Mid lots of mild dismay, There cums a serge of power: The hash is onit sway.
The Hornet soun so cheery, And on the packet run, An sum, already weerie, Are wish they did not cum. A Czech pint givey breaver, For dose who laggey hind, While some fit eager beaver Will see wot ecan find.
Jus den a cawl came floaty, “I’m on won,” swotit sed, An somewhere someone gloatey Cry “I’m on two,” instead. The pack once more togevver Dare win and strength all gon, But are dey finish? Never! Cos Isaac Hunt cries, “ON!”
Our fartin, pantin army Are strewn both wide and far. They say we must be barmy! They blubby right, we are! We run thru payne an sorrow An sometime mud a swell, An no in that tomorrow Our legs swill ert like ell!
When arskt “Wot mayshewdoit?” The answer is quite clear: The thort of cummin threw it To a nice cool pinty beer. BUT for “pint” read “gallon” The timey go so farst: You thort the pubby closeat too, But nowitsix ‘arfpast!
An so you weavy homeward, All fuzzy in de hed, Your dinner’s in the dustbin, An you just want your bed. Your wifey look most unamused: Er teeth are out and nashin’. Why can’t she seem to unnerstan’ How fit you get from HASHIN’