Tombstone Epitaph In a Silver City, Nevada, cemetery:
Here lays Butch,
We planted him raw.
He was quick on the trigger,
But slow on the draw.

                              A chap down in Oklahoma 
                              Had a cock that could sing La Paloma, 
                                        But the sweetness of pitch 
                                        Couldn't put off the hitch 
                              Of impotence, size and aroma. 

There was a young lady of Maine
Who declared she'd a man on her brain.
But you knew from the view
Of her waist as it grew
It was not on her brain that he'd lain.

There was a young man from Nantucket
Whose feet were attached to grease buckets
From trouble he'd hide
With a quick slip n slide
Of responsibility he said, simply, "duck it."

PS So you see, Bill, in America,

*anyone* can grow up to be the President.

sent by Summer Mondeau


  

A lacklustre lady of Brougham 
            Weaveth all night at her loom. 
                Anon she doth blench 
                When her lord and his wench 
            Pull a chain in the neighboring room.