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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