In Kansas there lived a young monk 
               Who often was in a blue funk, 
                    For his come always froze 
                    On the sisters' thick hose, 
               And they never would part with a chunk. 

There once was a Bishop of Treet
Who decided to be indiscreet,
But after one round
To his horror he found
You repeat, and repeat, and repeat.

There was a young man from Rangoon
Whose farts could be heard to the moon.
When you'd least expect 'em,
They'd burst from his rectum
With the force of a raging typhoon.

There was a girl from the five and ten
Who diddled herself with a fountain pen.
The top came off,
The ink went wild,
And now she's the mother of a coloured child.

There was an old girl from the Azores

           whos cunt was covered in sores

           even the dogs in the street

           wouldn't sniff the green meat

           that hung in great chunks 

           from her drawers


                              RpR