Ancestral Nonsense Poem by Phil Soar

I tried to trace my family back in time to find ancestors
But after searching for a while, my mind began to fester
I really couldn't cope with knowing how my family was then
Some whores, and thieves, some bores and many independent men

Back in 1830, seems a man named Albert Briggs
Begat a girl of ill repute and fed her many figs
She farted during intercourse and covered him in grime
And when I looked his name up, he had died covered in slime

And back in 1723, a lady wed a butcher's mate
It seemed she had a slice of him, she kept by her back gate
She thrust herself upon it, when she felt a little twinge
And got a massive butcher's, stuck inside her minge

I gave up tracing ancestors, and saved some time and money
And made myself a business, from making bread and honey
I sold it in a garage sale, and made a lot of cash
When sales were slack, I took some crack, and blew it at a bash