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"Last night," said a lassie named Ruth,
"In a long-distance telephone booth,
I enjoyed the perfection
Of an ideal connection---
I was screwed, if you must know the truth."
Send this poem to a friend 1 A habit uncouth and unsav'ry,
Kept the Bishop of Essex in slav'ry,
Midst shrieks, hoots, and howls,
He'd bugger large owls,
Which he kept in an underground av'ry.
Send this poem to a friend 2 There once were two ladies from Birmingham
That dealy with matters not concerning them.
They reached under the robes
And tickled the globes
Of the bishop that then was confirming them
Now this bishop he wasn't a fool,
He knew what to do with that duel.
He whipped off his britches
And gave those two bitches
A foot of episcople tool.
Send this poem to a friend 3
In Kansas there lived a young monk
Who often was in a blue funk,
For his come always froze
On the sisters' thick hose,
And they never would part with a chunk.
Send this poem to a friend 4
There once was a man named Mort
Whose dick was incredibly short
He climbed into bed
And his lady friend said,
"That's not a dick, it's a wart.
Send this poem to a friend 5