One of England's best-loved poems turned into a tirade about she-goats and jammings.

This be the verse - Philip Larkin

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

English to German to French to Dutch to English:

They you Arschloch in top, your mummy and papa.
They cannot mean them, however.
You fill yourself with jammings which add it
and extra, particularly for you have had.

But they in top gebumst of time in their rotation
of the stupid accounts in the type contralto guard and the layers
have become that half Soppyheck and half cuts the throat of other products.

Hands of man on the misery to people.
As a coast rack deepens himself.
Do not go in is possible already and have of young she-goats.