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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