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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