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There was a young lady of Totten Whose tastes grew perverted and rotten. She cared not for steaks, Or for pastry or cakes, But lived upon penis *au gratin*.
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1
There once was a baker of Nottingham, Who in making eclairs would put snot in 'em. When he ran out of snot, He would, like as not, Take his pecker and jack off a shot in 'em.
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2
There was a young man of King's Cross, Who amused himself frigging a horse. Then licking the spend Which still dripped from the end, Said, "It tastes just like anchovy sauce."
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3
On clinkers his choice often fell, Or clabbered piss brought to a jell. When these palled to his tastes, He tried snot and turd-paste, And found them delicious as well.
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4
There is evidence Clinton's largess Has been witnessed and was, we might guess, In the trap of Lewinsky, When pulled out; 'Kaczynski- Dooing, left him a bit of a mess.
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5
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