Today's poems [8.22.08]

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There was an old man from Pinole 
               Who always got in the wrong hole, 
                    And when he withdrew, 
                    All covered with goo, 
               His temper was out of control. 

I knew a girl from St. Paul 
Who wore a newspaper dress to a ball. 
Someone set it on fire 
And burned here entire 
Front Page, Sporting Section and all. 

"Can't you see where this is all leading,
This nightmare of selective breeding ?"
He spat on the ground
And then turned around
And continued on with his weeding. 

There was a young man from Malacca
Who always slept on his left knacker.
One saturday night,
He slept on his right,
And his knacker went off like a cracker. 

                    Peter, first Duke of Orange
                            
                    Was limited to a miserable four-inch,
                            But technique in a keyhole
                            Developed his P-hole
                            
                    "Til at last it got caught in the door-hinge.
                            

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