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Today's poems [4.3.05]

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The was a young man from Peru
Who lived on cunt scapings and poo
When he could find none of these
He lived on the cheese
that under his foreskin grew

1.   Vote:    Category: Food and Drink Send this poem to a friend




RELATIVES

Many many years ago when I was twenty three, 
I got married to a widow who was pretty as could be. 
This widow had a grown-up daughter 
Who had hair of red. 
My father fell in love with her, 
And soon the two were wed. 

This made my dad my son-in-law 
And changed my very life. 
My daughter was my mother, 
For she was my father's wife. 

To complicate the matters worse, 
Although it brought me joy, 
I soon became the father 
Of a bouncing baby boy. 

My little baby then became 
A brother-in-law to dad. 
And so became my uncle, 
Though it made me very sad. 

For if he was my uncle, 
Then that also made him brother 
To the widow's grown-up daughter 
Who, of course, was my step-mother. 

Father's wife then had a son, 
Who kept them on the run. 
And he became my grandson, 
For he was my daughter's son. 

My wife is now my mother's mother 
And it makes me blue. 
Because, although she is my wife, 
She's my grandmother too. 

If my wife is my grandmother, 
Then I am her grandchild. 
And every time I think of it, 
It simply drives me wild. 

For now I have become 
The strangest case you ever saw. 
As the husband of my grandmother, 
I am my own grandpa! 

2.   Vote:    Category: Marriage and Relationships Send this poem to a friend




Doc said i should go on a diet;

I said, "Ok, I will try it."

But when i saw how

Much food he'd allow,

I made up my mind not to buy it.

Sent by Christi

3.   Vote:    Category: Medicine Send this poem to a friend




There was an old maid in Peru
               Who'd a dog and a cat and a gnu. 
                    From a sairlor named Harrot 
                    She bought an old parrot, 
               And he threw in a young cockatoo. 

4.   Vote:    Category: Animal World Send this poem to a friend




He was great in the Christmas Cantata,
He could double-stop fart The Toccata,
He'd boom from his ass
Bach's B-Minor Mass,
And in counterpoint, La Traviata. 

5.   Vote:    Categories: Music, Men Send this poem to a friend



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