Today's poems [8.26.12]
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There was a young whore whose de-light
Was to lure all the men of the night.
She'd en-trap them with bets,
Then ad-mi-re their pecks
And then stare at the ceil-ing all night.
There was a young rump from Ra-cine
Whose bot-tom was in-ter-est-ing-ly keen.
No wig-gle or shook
It was hard as a book,
When it blos-somed I sqirt-ed my bean.
There was once a sad Maitre d'hotel
Who said, "They can all go to hell!
What they do to my wife---
Why it ruins my life;
And the worst is, they all do it well."
There was an old man of Madrid
Who went to an auction to bid.
In the first lot they sold
Was an ancient commode---
And, my God, when they lifted the lid!
There was a young fellow named Bowen
Whose pecker kept growin' and growin'.
It grew so tremendous,
So long and so pendulous,
'Twas no good for fuckin'---just showin'.
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