There was a young girl of East Anglia 
               Whose loins were a tangle of ganglia. 
                    Her mind was a webbing 
                    Of Freud and Kraft-Ebing 
               And all sorts of other mew-fanglia. 

               The last time I dined with the King 
               He did quite a curious thing: 
                    He sat on a stool 
                    And took out his tool, 
               And said, "If I play, will you sing?" 

There is evidence Clinton's largess
Has been witnessed and was, we might guess,
    In the trap of Lewinsky,
    When pulled out; 'Kaczynski-
Dooing, left him a bit of a mess.

There once was a woman from Bombay,
She carved a pussy out of clay.
The heat from his dick,
Turned it into brick,
And ripped all his foreskin away.

Mary had a little skirt
With slits right up the sides
And everytime she crossed her legs
The boys could see her thighs

Mary had another skirt
With a slit right up the front
She never wore that one...