To Italy went Sinclair Lewis 
               Documenting the life led by loose 
                    American drunks, 
                    But he unpacked his trunks 
               'Cause Florence slipped him a goose. 

There was a young fellow named Goff 
            Whose amusement was jacking it off 
                He pulled it so hard 
                It stretched out a yard. 
            And turned to bright blue and fell off.

               Under the spreading chestnut tree 
               The village smith he sat, 
                    Amusing himself 
                    By abusing himself 
               And catching the load in his hat. 

There was a young fellow named Simon
Who tried to discover a hymen.
But he found every girl
Had relinguished her pearl
In exchange for a solitaire diamond. 

There was a sad prude out in Iowa 
               Who would say, "Please say it my way: 
                    Do not say fuck, 
                    It don't rhyme with duck. 
               Say untcay and itshay and uckfay."