There was a young harlot named Schwartz
Whose cock-pit was studded with warts,
        And they tickled so nice
        She drew a high price
From the studs at the summer resorts.

Her pimp, a young fellow named Biddle,
Was seldom hard up for a diddle,
        For according to rumor
        His tool had a tumor
And a fine row of warts down the middle.

               A vice both obscene and unsavory 
               Holds the Mayor of Southhampton in slavery. 
                    With bloodcurdling howls 
                    He deflowers young owls 
               Which he keeps in an underground aviary. 

               Said Senator David I. Walsh, 
               "These charges against me are false. 
                    Though I did go to Brooklyn 
                    For sooklyn and fooklyn, 
               Not a gob laid his hands on my balsh." 

There once was a monk from Siberia
Whose manners were rather inferior
He did to a nun
What he shouldn't have done
And now she's a Mother Superior

Said an ardent young bridegroom named Trask,
"I will grant any wish that you ask,"
Said the bride, "Kiss me, dearie,
Until I grow weary,"
But he died of old age at the task.