Today's poems [9.21.08]

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There was a young lady called Dawn

Who wished she had never been born.

She wouldn't have been

If her father had seen

That the end of his rubber was torn.


Sent by Charles

The bishop of Winchester Junction 
            Found his phallus would no longer function. 
                So in black crepe he wound it, 
                Tied a lily around it, 
            And solemnly gave it last unction. 

To his bride said the lynx-eyed detective:
'Can it be that my eyesight's defective?
Has your east tit the least bit
The best of the west tit?
Or is it a trick of perspective?'

                                        So here was this fellow from Strensall, 
                                        Whose pecker was shaped like a pencil, 
                                                      Anemic, 'tis true, 
                                                      But an interesting screw, 
                                        Inasmuch as the tip is prehensile. 

There was a young lady of Mott
Who inserted a fly up her twat
And pretended the buzz
Was not what it was,
But something she knew it was not. 

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