Today's poems [1.24.08]

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If the river was made of whiskey,
And I a diving duck,
I'd swim down to the bottom,
And drink myself back up.

Sent by Amy

As Apollo was chasing the fair 
               Daphne she vanished in air. 
                    He could find but a shrub 
                    With thick bark on the hub 
               And not even a knot-hole to spare. 

There once was a man from Madras
With testicles made of spun glass
When he rubbed them together
They played "Stormy Weather"
And lightning shot out of his ass

Sent by karen

                                        So here was this fellow from Strensall, 
                                        Whose pecker was shaped like a pencil, 
                                                      Anemic, 'tis true, 
                                                      But an interesting screw, 
                                        Inasmuch as the tip is prehensile. 

There was a young lady named Gloria
Who had sex with Sir Wilfred DuMoria,
Then with 26 men,
Sir Wilfred again,
And the band from the Waldorf- Astoria.

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