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Today's poems [8.18.12]

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Many many years ago when I was twenty three, 
I got married to a widow who was pretty as could be. 
This widow had a grown-up daughter 
Who had hair of red. 
My father fell in love with her, 
And soon the two were wed. 

This made my dad my son-in-law 
And changed my very life. 
My daughter was my mother, 
For she was my father's wife. 

To complicate the matters worse, 
Although it brought me joy, 
I soon became the father 
Of a bouncing baby boy. 

My little baby then became 
A brother-in-law to dad. 
And so became my uncle, 
Though it made me very sad. 

For if he was my uncle, 
Then that also made him brother 
To the widow's grown-up daughter 
Who, of course, was my step-mother. 

Father's wife then had a son, 
Who kept them on the run. 
And he became my grandson, 
For he was my daughter's son. 

My wife is now my mother's mother 
And it makes me blue. 
Because, although she is my wife, 
She's my grandmother too. 

If my wife is my grandmother, 
Then I am her grandchild. 
And every time I think of it, 
It simply drives me wild. 

For now I have become 
The strangest case you ever saw. 
As the husband of my grandmother, 
I am my own grandpa! 

1. 




Part 1 of 2:
   
                    There was a young girl with a pretty-ass,
                            
                    And her habits were neat but invidious.
                            She would wipe with a taper
                            Of scented blue paper,
                            
                    Since she was so very fastidious.
                            


2. 




Part 2 of 2:
   
                    Then when she had wiped off her bung
                            
                    Of the clinkers that thereunto clung,
                            She would singe off the hair
                            That had sprouted down there,
                            
                    And would lick her twat clean with her tongue.
                            
                                              


3. 




                    A studious professor named Nestor
                            
                    Bet a whore all his books he could best her.
                            But she drained out his balls
                            And skipped up the walls,
                            
                    Beseeching poor Nestor to rest her.
                            


4. 




Part 1 of 12
   
                    There was a young fellow from Sparta,
                            
                    A really magnificent farter,
                            On the strength of one bean
                            He'd fart God Save the Queen,
                            
                    And Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.
                            


5. 



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 August '12 Poems Issues:
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