There was a long lady named Weaver 
               Who had intercourse with a beaver. 
                    The result of their fuck 
                    Was a canvas-back duck, 
               Two muskrats and a hump-backed retriever. 

The young things who frequent picture palaces 
               Have no use for this psycho-analysis. 
                    And although Doctor Freud 
                    Is distinctly annoyed 
               They cling to their old-fashioned fallacies. 

There was a young lass from Hoboken 
            Who said that her hymen was broken 
                From riding a bike, 
                on a cobble stone pike. 
            In truth, it was broken from pokin'. 

There once was a kid named Darren
Who's room was surprisingly barren
He had no toys
Like all normal boys
But he did believe in sharing

The naughty old bishop of Birmingham
buggered two boys whilst comfirming 'em
 as the knelt before god
 he pulled out his rod
and pumped his episcopal sperm in 'em