Today's poems [12.27.12]
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There was a young lady named Rose
Who'd occasionally straddle a hose,
And parade about squirting
And spouting and spurting,
Pretending she pissed like her beaux
She was seen by her cousin named Anne,
Who improved the original plan.
She said, "My dear Rose,
In this lowly old hose
Are all the best parts of a man."
So, avoiding the crude and sadistic,
She frigged in a manner artistic:
At the height of her pleasure
She turned up the pressure,
And cried, "Ain't it grand and realistic!"
They soon told the Duchess of Fyfe,
And her crony, the alderman's wife;
And they found it so pleasing,
And tickling and teasing
That they washed men right out of their life.
It was tried by the great Mrs. Biddle,
And she said to her husband, "Go fiddle!
Here's double the fun,
And you get three in one---
A ducking, a douche, and a diddle."
It was tried by the dancer, Di Basle,
Whose cunt was just made for a nozzle.
She said, "I admit
It's an elegant fit,
But of course it won't do for the arse 'ole."
It was tried by the Duchess of Porter,
And passed on by her to her daughter,
Who said, "With a leman
You're fearful of semen,
But a fuck's as effective with water."
Thus writes Lady Vanderbilt-Horsett,
Who invented the Lonely-Maid Corset:
"I thought all vicarious
I was wrong. It's a whiz. I endorse it.
Soon in Paris, on the Boulevard Salique,
You sould purchase (complet avec talic,
Pour soixante francs cinq)
A short hose and a tank,
And they call it Le Fuckeur Hydraulique.
In Kansas there lived a young monk
Who often was in a blue funk,
For his come always froze
On the sisters' thick hose,
And they never would part with a chunk.
There once were two ladies from Birmingham
That dealy with matters not concerning them.
They reached under the robes
And tickled the globes
Of the bishop that then was confirming them
Now this bishop he wasn't a fool,
He knew what to do with that duel.
He whipped off his britches
And gave those two bitches
A foot of episcople tool.
A habit uncouth and unsav'ry,
Kept the Bishop of Essex in slav'ry,
Midst shrieks, hoots, and howls,
He'd bugger large owls,
Which he kept in an underground av'ry.
"Last night," said a lassie named Ruth,
"In a long-distance telephone booth,
I enjoyed the perfection
Of an ideal connection---
I was screwed, if you must know the truth."
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