Today's poems [8.22.10]
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There was a young lady of Totten
Whose tastes grew perverted and rotten.
She cared not for steaks,
Or for pastry or cakes,
But lived upon penis *au gratin*.
Father, don't I have to work?
No, my lucky son.
We're living now on Easy Street,
on dough from Washington.
We've left things up to Uncle Sam,
so don't get exercised.
No-one has to give a damn.
We've all been subsidized!
But if Sam treats us all so well,
and feeds us milk and honey,
please, Daddy, tell me what the hell
He's going to do for money?
Don't worry, Bub, there's not a hitch
in this-here noble plan.
We merely soak the Filthy Rich
and feed the Common Man.
But, Daddy, won't there come a time
when they'll run out of cash?
And we'll have left, then, not a dime
and things will go to smash?!
My faith in you is shrinking, son,
you nosey little brat!
You do too damned much thinking, son,
to be a Democrat!
My wife, when I traveled away,
Made sly extramarital hay,
And partied for hours
With chosen endowers,
And often came back the next day.
There was a young man from south Boston
Who's car was a small compact Austin.
There was just room inside
For his hair and his hide,
But his balls still hung out, so he lost 'em.
A disgusting young man named McGill
Made his neighbors exceedingly ill
When they learned of his habits
Involving white rabbits
And a bird with a flexible bill
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