A young man from the banks of the Po 
               Found his cock had elongated so, 
                    That when he'd pee 
                    It was not he 
               But even his neighbors who'd know. 

There was a young man from Rangoon
Whose farts could be heard to the moon.
When you'd least expect 'em,
They'd burst from his rectum
With the force of a raging typhoon.

            There was a young man from Vancouver 
            Whose existence had lost its prime mover. 
                But its loss he supplied 
                With a piece of bull's hide, 
            Two pairs, and the bag from the Hoover. 

Part 3 of 3
Then up spoke a lady from Kew,
And said, as the Bishop withdrew,
"The vicar is quicker
And thicker and slicker,
And longer and stronger than you."

There was a young lady of fashion 
            Who had oodles and oodles of passion. 
                To her lover she said, 
                As they climbed into bed, 
            "Here's one thing the bastards can't ration!"