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Today's poems [7.6.05]

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There was a young man from Lyme
Who couldn't get limericks to sound right.
When asked why not
It was said that he thought
They were overly long and far to complex, possibly even dull. 

1.   Vote:    Category: Miscellaneous Send this poem to a friend




An aesthete from South Carolina
Had a cock that tinkled like china,
But while shooting his load
It cracked like old Spode,
So he's bought him a Steuben vagina.


2.   Vote:    Category: Send this poem to a friend




There was a young man from St. Paul
Whose cock was exceedingly small.
Now it might do for a keyhole
Or a little girl's peehole.
But for a big girl like me, not at all. 

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




               A bobby of Nottingham Junction 
               Whose organ had long ceased to function 
                    Deceived his good wife 
                    For the rest of her life 
               With the aid of a constable's truncheon. 

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




Redneck family tree

     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!

5.   Vote:    Category: Ethnic Send this poem to a friend



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