Today's poems [11.2.08]
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Said a swinging young girl named Lyth
Whose virtue was largely a myth,
"Try as hard as I can,
I can't find a man
That it's fun to be virtuous with."
There once was a young man named Lanny
The size of whose prick was uncanny.
His wife, the poor dear,
Took it into her ear,
And it came out the hole in her fanny.
Razors pains you,
Rivers are damp;
Acids stains you'
And drugs cause cramps.
Guns aren't lawful,
Gases smells awful,
You might as well live.
My wife, when I traveled away,
Made sly extramarital hay,
And partied for hours
With chosen endowers,
And often came back the next day.
Mary had a little lamb,
Its fleece was slightly grey.
It didn't have a father,
Just some borrowed DNA.
It sort of had a mother,
Though the ovum was on loan.
It was not so much a lambkin
As a little lamby clone.
And soon it had a fellow clone,
And soon it had some more.
It made the children laugh and sing,
The teachers found it droll;
There were too many lamby clones
For Mary to control.
No other could control the sheep
Since their programs didn't vary,
So the scientists resolved it all
By simply cloning Mary.
But now they feel quite sheepish,
Those scientists unwary.
One problem solved, but what to do
With Mary, Mary, Mary?
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