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Today's poems [5.1.10]

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               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. 


There once was a fiesty young terrier
Who liked to bite girls on the derriere.
He'd yip and he'd yap,
Then leap up and snap;
And the fairer the derriere the merrier.


There was a young man who preferred 
               Having sex with some kind of a bird. 
                    The rarer the species, 
                    And the fuller of feces, 
               The better---that guy really loved turd. 


There was a young man from St. Paul
Whose cock was exceedingly small.
Now it might do for a keyhole
Or a little girl's peehole.
But for a big girl like me, not at all. 


A shiftless young fellow of Kent 
               Had his wife fuck the landlord for rent. 
                    But as she grew older, 
                    The landlord grew colder, 
               And now they live out in a tent. 


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