Today's poems [9.1.08]

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Have you heard of young Franchot Tone 
               Who felt of his own peculiar bone? 
                    It was long and quite narrow 
                    And filled full of marrow, 
               And less edible than stale corn pone. 

THERE ONCE WAS A RULER CALLED "SLICK"

THAT COULD'NT TAKE CONTROL OF HIS DICK 

HIS LIFE BECAME A MESS

BECAUSE OF A DRESS

AND THE BUS FULL OF INTERNS TAKE SICK.

Sent by Matthew

Anna Hopewell's grave in Enosburg Falls, Vermont has an epitaph that
sounds like something from a Three Stooges movie:

Here lies the body of our Anna
Done to death by a banana
It wasn't the fruit that laid her low
But the skin of the thing that made her go.

               There was a young lady named Ransom 
               Who was rogered three times in a hansom. 
                    When she cried out for more 
                    A voice from the floor 
               Said, "My name is Simpson, not Sampson!" 

There was a young lady of Maine
Who declared she'd a man on her brain.
But you knew from the view
Of her waist as it grew
It was not on her brain that he'd lain.

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