The bell rings vehemently The post will vary the while to granny She is rushing to the wicket And she is looking forward to a white letter She is taking by the handle and opening the wicket She is beholding the postman Radek at the doorstep 'Radek, little Radek, what do you have for me? You will give me a letter from my daughter, won't you?' 'Oh, granny, be sure that I will,' he answers kindly He is reaching for a letter in the satchel and giving it to her He gives thanks for thanks But suddenly he is asking her, 'Granny, I have a little request for you, I want to poop, can I come in?' 'Of course - come in.' In the latrine he has put out a knife from the satchel He was so fascinated That he puckered the eyebrows Now he's stealing to the cottage And ragely stabbing the granny The blood is splashing on tiles On the stove and the baskets He enjoyed her as a swine What will he do with this filth? As usual, He is jacking off He must also catch He must also catch the morning post.