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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