Today's poems [4.5.20]
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There was a young man named Lanny
The size of whose prick was uncanny.
His wife, the poor dear,
Took it in her ear
And it came out the hole in her fanny.
There was a young lady from Brewster
Who's ass was so nice that I goosed her,
But her panties were thin
And my finger slipped in
And it still just don't smell like it used ter.
The youth who frequent picture palaces
Have no use for psychoanalysis,
And although Dr Freud
Is distinctly annoyed,
They cling to their long-standing fallacies.
There once was a girl named Louise
Whose cunt hair hung down to her knees.
The crabs in her twat
Tied the hair in a knot
And constructed a flying trapeze.
Said a swinging young girl named Lyth
Whose virtue was largely a myth,
"Try as hard as I can,
I can't find a man
That it's fun to be virtuous with."
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