Today's poems [10.16.10]
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There was an old fellow named Rapp
Who had a job all considered a snap.
In the insane asylum
He'd grade cunts and file 'em,
And bi-weekly he'd rub up their nap
There once was a writer named Twain
Who had a peculiar stain
Surrounding the head
Of his prick: it was red,
And was said to wash off in the rain.
A patrician young fellow named Lear
Used to wash off his bollocks with beer.
Said he, "By the gods,
This is good for the cods---
It will lengthen my fucking career.
A damsel who lives at the Springs
Had her maidenhead ripped into strings
By a hideous Kurd,
And now, she averred,
"When the wind blows through it, it sings."
There once was a Bactrian camel
Who was bound by no fetter or trammel.
When he tried to make hay
In his Bactrian way,
His wife said, "Make me; I'm a mammal."
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