There was a young lass from Ignatius Who lived in a garret quite spacious. When she went to here auntie's She always wore panties, But alone in her garret,---good gracious. Send this poem to a friend 1 A fellow who slept with a whore, Used a safe, but his pecker got sore. Said he with chagrin, "Selling these is a sin," Said the druggist, "Caveat emptor". Send this poem to a friend 2 There was a young man of Bombay, Who fashioned a c--t out of clay. But the heat of his prick, Turned it into a brick, And chafed all his foreskin away. Send this poem to a friend 3 There was a young lady of Michigan, Who said, "Damn it! I've got the itch again." Said her mother, "That's strange, I'm surprised it ain't mange, If you've slept with that son-of-a-bitch again." Send this poem to a friend 4 So here was this fellow from Strensall, Whose pecker was shaped like a pencil, Anemic, 'tis true, But an interesting screw, Inasmuch as the tip is prehensile. Send this poem to a friend 5
