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Any whore whose door sports a red light
Knows a prick when she sees one, all right.
She can tell by a glance
At the drape of men's pants
If they're worth taking on for the night.
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A passionate red-headed girl,
When you kissed her, her senses would whirl,
And her twat would get wet
And would wiggle and fret,
And her cunt-lips would curl and unfurl.
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There was an old soldier named Schmitt
Took a trip to the can for to shit.
To his epic despair
No paper was there.
So he simply continued to sit.
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There was a young colonel from Trent
Who lived in a lavender tent.
He said that some sessions
With interesting Hessians
Had taught him what war really meant.
Send this poem to a friend 4 By a cozy peat fire in O'Dell,
Sat a Scot and a Mick, I hear tell.
"I'm full," cried O'Brien.
Said McLoed,"Well, I'm buyin'."
Sure and now, that's a cold day in hell.
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