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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