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There was a young lady from Brussels
Who was proud of her vaginal muscles.
She could easily plex them
And so interflex them
As to whistle love songs through her bustles.
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1
A nymphomaniacal nurse
With a curse that was worse than perverse
Stuck a rotary drill
Up her twat, for a thrill---
And they carted her off in a hearse.
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2
There was a young lady named Shriver
Who was screwed in the ass by the driver,
And when she complained
He said, "Sorry you were pained,"
And gave her a fiver to bribe her.
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3
Dirty Old Hag
Here's to Mag that dirty old hag,
That slick and slimy old bitch,
From her nose green matter flows,
And from her toes green maggots grow.
Before I climb those scaly legs
And chew those festered tits,
I'll drink three quarts of drunkard's puke
and die with the drizzled shits.
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4
Ode to Spam
by Charlie Johnston
Oh SPAM! Oh SPAM! Gourmet delight!
My food by day, my dreams by night.
To carve, to slice, to dice you up -
pureed in a blender and sipped from a cup.
What shining deity from Olympus knelt
down to the earth and hog butt smelt?
Creating then man's eternal desire
for swine entrails congealed by fire.
On some corporate farm, a pig has died.
Eyes, tongue, and snout end up inside
that cube of SPAM hidden in the can
I now hold in my trembling hand.
More than mere food, SPAM is for me
a hedonistic expression of gluttonous glee.
Mottled with pork fat, the pink cube engrosses.
My mouth takes it in, my intestine disposes.
Long have my arteries clogged to the sound
of sizzling SPAM when there's no one around -
furtively chewing or swallowing whole.
Triple bypass by forty, my medical goal.
Other processed meat products I've tried or declined
Vienna Sausages, Treet, even pig's feet in brine.
Though each may be tasty in different ways,
none matches SPAM for gelatinous glaze.
That glistening pinkness beckons me
with gristle, fat, and BHT.
Oh Spam, my Spam - the taste, the smell -
The sacred meat product from Hormel.
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