Lass with bro’ lies.
On a cold and gray north Deutschland morning
Hansel is humping; in sis he’s horning—
sin with Gretel.

Heard are moaning, cries.
Mom and pop are worried what to feed
their kids, upstairs Hansel goes to seed,
filling Gretel.

Didn’t care or understand:
sibling-intermingled glands
should be shunned, and even stay away from foreplay.
Those who study now agree,
this ain’t good genetic’lly.
By such strictures lad ain’t led. . .
fornication foray.

Swelled, the “worm” squirms.
And a horny friggin’ boy in the humpin’ throes
ain’t too discreet as he deeper goes
into Gretel.
He is hung and yearns.

All depart from home, a family flight. . .
in the forest folks leave
them to face a big plight:
witch with kettle.

She captures kids for fress-gustation—
they cannot break away.
To get him plump, feeds him tartes,
but she’s stumped by his fake-out arts.
So she’s gonna fry
up his sis; witch thinks he’s a skinny young man.
Instead Gretel eats the witch between her gams:
lingual Gretel.

Next the young man lies
with his sis and the witch, all cavorting.
Into, his instrument he’s porting,
witch and Gretel.

À trois, ménage-wise.