An Idle Brain Is The Devil's Workshop

This morning, while I was waiting for a bus, the following slowly oozed into the ol' cerebrum like warm molasses. To the tune of Anchors Aweigh:

Wankers all day, my boys;
Wankers all day.
When naval duty cloys,
We masturbate our lives away.
So first—pre-ejaculate;
Then—creamy foam.
(Keep whites immaculate
By shipping all your dirty laundry home.)

Lyric © 2009 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov

It's a rough draft, I suppose--I don't much care for cloys, and so is mere filler; but I don't regret having added three extra syllables in place of the original day-ay-ay-ay.

A few scraps of ideas came to me a couple of weeks ago, but I haven't had time to work 'em out. You may watch this space for further developments, but don't hold your breath while doing so.