A Cajun gourmet named LaSalle, Is the chef at dat place on Canal. He put lotta spice On your red beans an' rice, And make lightnin' shoot outta your bowel! Send this poem to a friend 1 My back aches, my pussy is sore, I simply can't fuck any more, I'm covered with sweat, And you haven't come yet, And my God, it's a quarter to four! Send this poem to a friend 2 Said a swinging young girl named Lyth Whose virtue was largely a myth, "Try as hard as I can, I can't find a man That it's fun to be virtuous with." Send this poem to a friend 3 The youth who frequent picture palaces Have no use for psychoanalysis, And although Dr Freud Is distinctly annoyed, They cling to their long-standing fallacies. Send this poem to a friend 4 There once was a queen of Bulgaria Whose bush had grown hairier and hairier, Till a prince from Peru Who came up for a screw Had to hunt for her cunt with a terrier. Send this poem to a friend 5
