Hit By A Bus     By Andy Christopfel

Late
God I'm late
For today...today I have a date
With my professor that is
Gotta go
Gotta run
Gotta hurry, no time for fun
shoot me
kill me
stab me with a knife
School is much more important than this 
precious little life
Whizzing past the students
Running blindly pass the campus sights
I take a step into the street and meet 
my creator's device
Call me an idiot
Call me a damn fool
I did not do it in the name of love,
Rather, in the name of school
Pick up the telephone and call that paramedic...
While you're at it, call my mommy too
But now it's too late,
And there's nothing that you can do
I can't even speak, scream, yell or cuss
Oh my God! Oh my God!
I've been HIT BY A BUS

Sent by andrew christopfel

There was an old maid from Bruton 
               Who had the bad habit of pootin'. 
                    Her sphincter was weak, 
                    Her wind she couldn't keep--- 
               This tootin' old spinster from Bruton. 

Maggie is such a sad sack of shit 
               That no one will tickle her tit. 
                    It would make her so glad 
                    To be had by a lad, 
               Her drawers cream at the mere thought of it. 

It was under the old apple tree 
               That she first showed it to me. 
                    It was ever so hot, 
                    It was shaped like a slot, 
               But it looked like a subway to me. 

               With a twinlke so full in her eye, 
               She craftily mangled my fly. 
                    Out popped a tool 
                    That was long as a rule 
               And she sank to her knees with a sigh. 

               She proceeded to lube up my tool 
               With lots of her natural drool. 
                    My knees gave a shake, 
                    My breath hard to make, 
               And my tool throbbed away like a fool. 

               With a magnificent shake of her head, 
               She threw me down onto the bed. 
                    The apples so round, 
                    The leaves on the ground 
               Made my tool like a sail on the Med. 

               The subway engulfed all my tool. 
               She rocked like she's riding a mule. 
                    My tool gave a jerk, 
                    Let out a hot squrt, 
               And flooded her subway with jooul. 

               As the sun sank slow in the west, 
               She rose up and off of my chest. 
                    The tool flopped out bent 
                    It was terribly spent-- 
               She absorbed all the best of the rest! 

A parson who lived near Cremorne 
               Looked down on all women with scorn. 
                    E'en a boy's white, fat bum 
                    Could not make him come, 
               But an old man's piles gave him the horn.