Today's poems [8.20.08]
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There was once a sad Maitre d'hotel
Who said, "They can all go to hell!
What they do to my wife---
Why it ruins my life;
And the worst is, they all do it well."
A habit uncouth and unsav'ry,
Kept the Bishop of Essex in slav'ry,
Midst shrieks, hoots, and howls,
He'd bugger large owls,
Which he kept in an underground av'ry.
There was a fat turkey named Sam,
Who gobbled whenever he ran.
He came out of the bush,
Presenting his tush,
And was shot up the arse by a man.
There once was an apple-cheeked runt
Who was welcomed with joy at the Front.
This God's gift to he-men
Prevented spilled semen,
For his ass was tattooed like a cunt.
There was a young lady whose thighs,
When spread showed a slit of such size,
And so deep and so wide,
You could play cards inside---
Much to her bridegroom's surprise.
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