Friday, December 21, 2012

Sunday, November 25, 2012

You Ladyes All of Merrie England

You Ladyes all of Merry England
Who have been to kisse the Dutchesse's hand,
Pray did you lately observe in the Show
A Noble Italian call'd Signior Dildo?
The Signior was one of her Highness's Train [5]
And helpt to Conduct her over the Main,
But now she Crys out to the Duke I will go,
I have no more need for Seignior Dildo.
At the Signe of the Crosse in Saint James's Street,
When next you go thither to make your Selfes Sweet, [10]
By Buying of Powder, Gloves, Essence, or Soe
You may Chance get a Sight of Signior Dildo.
You'l take him at first for no Person of Note
Because he appears in a plain Leather Coat:
But when you his virtuous Abilities know [15]
You'll fall down and Worship Signior Dildo.
My Lady Southesk, Heav'ns prosper her for't,
First Cloath'd him in Satten, then brought him to Court;
But his Head in the Circle, he Scarcely durst Show,
So modest a Youth was Signior Dildo. [20]
The good Lady Suffolk thinking no harm,
Had got this poor Stranger hid under her Arm:
Lady Betty by Chance came the Secret to know,
And from her own Mother, Stole Signior Dildo:
The Countesse of Falmouth, of whom People tell [25]
Her Footmen wear Shirts of a Guinea an Ell:
Might Save the Expence, if she did but know
How Lusty a Swinger is Signior Dildo.
By the Help of this Gallant the Countesse of Rafe
Against the feirce Harris preserv'd her Self Safe: [30]
She Stifl'd him almost beneath her Pillow,
So Closely she imbrac'd Signior Dildo.
Our dainty fine Dutchesse's have got a Trick
To Doat on a Fool, for the Sake of his Prick,
The Fopps were undone, did their Graces but know [35]
The Discretion and vigor of Signior Dildo.
That Pattern of Virtue, her Grace of Cleaveland,
Has Swallow'd more Pricks, then the Ocean has Sand,
But by Rubbing and Scrubbing, so large it do's grow,
It is fit for just nothing but Signior Dildo. [40]
The Dutchesse of Modena, tho' she looks high,
With such a Gallant is contented to Lye:
And for fear the English her Secrets shou'd know,
For a Gentleman Usher took Signior Dildo.
The countess of the Cockpit (who knows not her Name) [45]
She's famous in Story, for a Killing Dame:
When all her old Lovers forsake her I Trow
She'l then be contented with Signior Dildo.
Red Howard, Red Sheldon, and Temple so tall
Complain of his absence so long from Whitehall: [50]
Signior Barnard has promis'd a Journy to goe,
And bring back his Countryman Signior Dildo.
Doll Howard no longer with his Highness must Range,
And therefore is profer'd this Civill Exchange:
Her Teeth being rotten, she Smells best below, [55]
And needs must be fitted for Signior Dildo.
St Albans with Wrinkles and Smiles in his Face
Whose kindnesse to Strangers, becomes his high Place,
In his Coach and Six Horses is gone to Pergo,
To take the fresh Air with Signior Dildo. [60]
Were this Signior but known to the Citizen Fopps
He'd keep their fine Wives from the Foremen of Shops,
But the Rascalls deserve their Horns shou'd Still grow,
For Burning the Pope, and his Nephew Dildo.
Tom Killigrews wife, North Hollands fine Flower, [65]
At the Sight of this Signior, did fart, and Belch Sow'r,
And her Dutch Breeding farther to Show,
Says welcome to England, myn Heer Van Dildo.
He civilly came to the Cockpitt one night,
And profer'd his Service to fair Madam Knight, [70]
Quoth she, I intrigue with Captain Cazzo
Your Nose in myne Arse good Seignior Dildo.
This Signior is sound, safe, ready, and Dumb,
As ever was Candle, Carret, or Thumb:
Then away with these nasty devices, and Show [75]
How you rate the just merits of Signior Dildo.
Count Cazzo who carryes his Nose very high,
In Passion he Swore, his Rivall shou'd Dye,
Then Shutt up himself, to let the world know,
Flesh and Blood cou'd not bear it from Signior Dildo. [80]
A Rabble of Pricks, who were welcome before,
Now finding the Porter deny'd 'em the Door,
Maliciously waited his coming below,
And inhumanely fell on Signior Dildo.
Nigh weary'd out, the poor Stranger did fly [85]
And along the Pallmall, they follow'd full Cry,
The Women concern'd from every Window,
Cry'd, Oh! for Heavn's sake save Signior Dildo.
The good Lady Sandys, burst into a Laughter
To see how the Ballocks came wobbling after, [90]
And had not their weight retarded the Fo
Indeed 't had gone hard with Signior Dildo.

Saturday, October 6, 2012

To a Young Ass

To a Young Ass
its mother being tethered near it


Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Poor little foal of an oppress├Ęd race!
I love the languid patience of thy face:
And oft with gentle hand I give thee bread,
And clap thy ragged coat, and pat thy head.
But what thy dulled spirits hath dismayed,
That never thou dost sport along the glade?
And (most unlike the nature of things young)
That earthward still thy moveless head is hung?
Do thy prophetic fears anticipate,
Meek Child of Misery! thy future fate?
The starving meal, and all the thousand aches
"Which patient Merit of the Unworthy takes"?
Or is thy sad heart thrilled with filial pain
To see thy wretched mother's shortened chain?
And truly, very piteous is her lot --
Chained to a log within a narrow spot,
Where the close-eaten grass is scarcely seen,
While sweet around her waves the tempting green! Poor Ass! they master should have learnt to show
Pity -- best taught by fellowship of Woe!
For much I fear me that He lives like thee,
Half famished in a land of Luxury!
How askingly its footsteps hither bend!
It seems to say, "And have I then one friend?"
Innocent foal! thou poor despised forlorn!
I hail thee Brother -- spite of the fool's scorn!
And fain would take thee with me, in the Dell
Of Peace and mild Equality to dwell,
Where Toil shall call the charmer Health his bride,
And Laughter tickle Plenty's ribless side!
How thou wouldst toss thy heels in gamesome play,
And frisk about, as lamb or kitten gay!
Yea! and more musically sweet to me
Thy dissonant harsh bray of joy would be,
Than warbled melodies that soothe to rest
The aching of pale Fashion's vacant breast!
--1794

Monday, October 1, 2012

Mobile

IN MOBILE
Oh, the eagles they fly high in Mobile, in Mobile,
Oh, the eagles they fly high in Mobile,
Oh, the eagles they fly high,
And they shit right in your eye,
It’s a good thing cows don't fly in Mobile.

Chorus
In Mobile, in Mobile,
In-mo, in-mo, in-mo, in-Mobile,
[Repeat Verse]

Oh, the vicar is a bugger in Mobile...
And the curate is another,
And they bugger one another in Mobile.

Oh, there's a brand new lighthouse in Mobile...
Which the birds use for a shit-house,
Now the lighthouse is a white-house in Mobile.

There's a man by the name of Hunt in Mobile...
Who thought he had a cunt,
But his balls were back to front in Mobile.

There's a man by the name of West in Mobile...
Who thought he had a breast,
But is balls were on his chest in Mobile.

Oh, the girls they wear tin undies in Mobile...
And they take them off on Sundays,
You should see the boys on Mondays in Mobile.

There's a shortage of good whores in Mobile...
But there are keyholes in the doors,
And there are knotholes in the floors in Mobile.
Oh, the parson is perverted in Mobile...
And his morals are inverted,
There's a thousand he's converted in Mobile.

There's a bastard named Mercator in Mobile...
Who's the greatest masturbator,
Fornicator, cunt-inflator in Mobile.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Forty Singing Seamen

Forty Singing Seamen

by Alfred Noyes


"In our lands be Beeres and Lyons of dyvers colours as ye redd, grene, black, and white. And in our land be also unicornes and these Unicornes slee many Lyons.... Also there dare no man make a lye in our lande, for if he dyde he sholde incontynent be sleyn."--Mediaeval Epistle, of Pope Prester John.

I
Across the seas of Wonderland to Mogadore we plodded,
Forty singing seamen in an old black barque,
And we landed in the twilight where a Polyphemus nodded
With his battered moon-eye winking red and yellow through the dark!
For his eye was growing mellow,
Rich and ripe and red and yellow,
As was time, since old Ulysses made him bellow in the dark!
_Cho._--Since Ulysses bunged his eye up with a pine-torch in the dark!

II
_Were_ they mountains in the gloaming or the giant's ugly shoulders
Just beneath the rolling eyeball, with its bleared and vinous glow,
Red and yellow o'er the purple of the pines among the boulders
And the shaggy horror brooding on the sullen slopes below,
_Were_ they pines among the boulders
Or the hair upon his shoulders?
We were only simple seamen, so of course we didn't know.
_Cho._--We were simple singing seamen, so of course we couldn't know.

III
But we crossed a plain of poppies, and we came upon a fountain
Not of water, but of jewels, like a spray of leaping fire;
And behind it, in an emerald glade, beneath a golden mountain
There stood a crystal palace, for a sailor to admire;
For a troop of ghosts came round us,
Which with leaves of bay they crowned us,
Then with grog they well nigh drowned us, to the depth of our desire!
_Cho._--And 'twas very friendly of them, as a sailor can admire!

IV
There was music all about us, we were growing quite forgetful
We were only singing seamen from the dirt of London-town,
Though the nectar that we swallowed seemed to vanish half regretful
As if we wasn't good enough to take such vittles down,
When we saw a sudden figure,
Tall and black as any nigger,
Like the devil--only bigger--drawing near us with a frown!
_Cho._--Like the devil--but much bigger--and he wore a golden crown!

V
And "What's all this?" he growls at us! With dignity we chaunted,
"Forty singing seamen, sir, as won't be put upon!"
"What? Englishmen?" he cries, "Well, if ye don't mind being haunted,
Faith you're welcome to my palace; I'm the famous Prester John!
Will ye walk into my palace?
I don't bear 'ee any malice!
One and all ye shall be welcome in the halls of Prester John!"
_Cho._--So we walked into the palace and the halls of Prester John!

VI
Now the door was one great diamond and the hall a hollow ruby--
Big as Beachy Head, my lads, nay bigger by a half!
And I sees the mate wi' mouth agape, a-staring like a booby,
And the skipper close behind him, with his tongue out like a calf!
Now the way to take it rightly
Was to walk along politely
Just as if you didn't notice--so I couldn't help but laugh!
_Cho._--For they both forgot their manners and the crew was bound to laugh!

VII
But he took us through his palace and, my lads, as I'm a sinner,
We walked into an opal like a sunset-coloured cloud--
"My dining-room," he says, and, quick as light we saw a dinner
Spread before us by the fingers of a hidden fairy crowd;
And the skipper, swaying gently
After dinner, murmurs faintly,
"I looks to-wards you, Prester John, you've done us very proud!"
_Cho._--And we drank his health with honours, for he _done_ us _very_ proud!

VIII
Then he walks us to his garden where we sees a feathered demon
Very splendid and important on a sort of spicy tree!
"That's the Phoenix," whispers Prester, "which all eddicated seamen
Knows the only one existent, and _he's_ waiting for to flee!
When his hundred years expire
Then he'll set hisself a-fire
And another from his ashes rise most beautiful to see!"
_Cho._--With wings of rose and emerald most beautiful to see!

IX
Then he says, "In younder forest there's a little silver river,
And whosoever drinks of it, his youth shall never die!
The centuries go by, but Prester John endures for ever
With his music in the mountains and his magic on the sky!
While _your_ hearts are growing colder,
While your world is growing older,
There's a magic in the distance, where the sea-line meets the sky,"
_Cho._--It shall call to singing seamen till the fount o' song is dry!

X
So we thought we'd up and seek it, but that forest fair defied us,--
First a crimson leopard laughs at us most horrible to see,
Then a sea-green lion came and sniffed and licked his chops and eyed us,
While a red and yellow unicorn was dancing round a tree!
_We_ was trying to look thinner,
Which was hard, because our dinner
Must ha' made us very tempting to a cat o' high degree!
_Cho._--Must ha' made us very tempting to the whole menarjeree!

XI
So we scuttled from that forest and across the poppy meadows
Where the awful shaggy horror brooded o'er us in the dark!
And we pushes out from shore again a-jumping at our shadows,
And pulls away most joyful to the old black barque!
And home again we plodded
While the Polyphemus nodded
With his battered moon-eye winking red and yellow through the dark.
_Cho._--Oh, the moon above the mountains, red and yellow through the dark!

XII
Across the seas of Wonderland to London-town we blundered,
Forty singing seamen as was puzzled for to know
If the visions that we saw was caused by--here again we pondered--
A tipple in a vision forty thousand years ago.
Could the grog we _dreamt_ we swallowed
Make us _dream_ of all that followed?
We were only simple seamen, so of course we didn't know!
_Cho._--We were simple singing seamen, so of course we could not know!

Friday, August 17, 2012

False Comparison

Your complaint is an evidence figment of your sexual desires. .
Copulation number no matter how big it is,
if it is deprived of many other ingredients
that should give supremacy and solemnity of our love,
then our aura and the head are decorated
with laurels and crown of unhappiness.
The more, you want to induce envy and unhappiness
in the cause of other relationships.
This is not good. Please think about this bad aspect.
Finally, please be a ''Lady'' not a madam.

Saturday, August 4, 2012

The Ballad of Lizzie Borden

Today is the anniversary of the deaths sometimes ascribed to Lizzie Borden and memorialized with this verse:

Lizzie Borden took an axe, and gave her mother forty whacks. And when she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty one.

Close your door, lock and latch it, cause here comes lizzie with her hatchet"

The Ballad of Lizzie Borden
by Annette Baker

Miss Lizzie Borden (so they say)
Chopped up her folks one August day.
The experts gave us all the specs:
She lusted after her own sex;
Beheading kittens (two or three)
She regularly did with glee;
She stole the goods she could have bought;
Her music lessons came to naught;
She was a dropout, though 'tis said
She was uncommonly well-read.
She sailed to Europe - that we know
And overspent her budget, so
The girl wired home for extra cash...
Her father wired back, "Balderdash!"
She had to borrow from a friend,
Which set her thinking how to send
Old Andrew up to Heaven's throne
And get his fortune for her own.
Of course, there was one tiny hitch:
His wife - that sly and scheming witch!
He could leave no widowed missus,
For all the money must be Lizzie's.
(She'd share with Sister Emma, who
Was fond of filthy lucre too.)
The plot was hatched, the hatchet ground;
She waited till the time came 'round -
The perfect moment, when the coast
Was clear, and she could make the most
Of Emma's summer interlude,
For poor, dear Emma was a prude,
Who wouldn't sanction shedding blood,
Though Lizzie fancied Emma would
Be all too glad to help her spend
The proceeds of it in the end.
She chose a perfect summer day;
'Twas hellish hot, the stories say.
A houseguest put her plan in doubt,
But handily, he sauntered out
To visit elsewhere in the town.
But then the maid was duty-bound
To wash the windows in and out,
Assuring she would be about
The place and surely interfere
With Lizzie's plan - but never fear -
Our Lizzie was a fearless sort;
She donned her paint-smeared Bedford cord,
Crept noiselessly up the stair,
And slew that "mean old thing" up there;
Rained blows upon her old gray head,
Till she was well and truly dead.
She waited then till Andrew came
From downstreet and gave him the same.
Her trademark frizzy bangs askew,
She chopped and hacked; he got his due.
And then she washed the blood away
And yelled upstairs, "Come down, I say!
For Father's dead; someone came in
And killed him while I looked for tin
To fix my screen - or was it lead
To make some sinkers?" Then she said,
" Fetch the doctor on the double!
Tell him there has been some trouble."
Soon the neighbors came and then
They all asked Lizzie where she'd been.
Her answers didn't fit the facts,
And in the cellar was an axe
With broken handle, and its head
Was rubbed with ashes, so they said.
Some ten months later, she was tried
With three fine lawyers at her side.
The D. A. failed to prove his case,
And Lizzie, in her best black lace
Was asked to stand and face her peers.
" Not guilty!" rang out loud and clear.
So Hip! Hooray! for Lizbeth B.
The jury loved her; so do we.
She bought a house upon the hill
And lived there all her days, but still-
Who did it, if it wasn't she?
We'll never solve that mystery...

Sunday, July 22, 2012

Monumental Erections

Monumental Erections

The Egyptians built the pyramids
The Greeks the parthenon
Prehistoric man built monoliths
Of which Stonehenge is one

But modern man's only monument
To his enduring might
Is a glass-clad priapic phallus
Six hundred feet in height

--Patrick Winstanley

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Epitaph

Beneath this stone a virgin lies,
Life for her held no terrors.
Born a virgin, died a virgin;
No hits, no runs, no errors.

Friday, July 6, 2012

This Is Your Brain on Sex

THis Is Your Brain on Sex
by Daniella, Princess of Doom

Dr.Livingston, I presume
In his buggy, rides sand dunes
Nice thick tires leave a trail
he's in the bush, he's gingerale

I fought the great big white rhino.
He stabbed me in the heart.
He is one clever asshole.
I am one super tart.

Some dumb fax just came for you
You owe all kinds of lettuce
put me on your lap
Spank me, tell me crap
I see you're just the same
I see you're just the same

All the card tricks you show me
I learn them and I remember
when you come back 'round I'll be ready
I'll keep my aim on you steady

Drink the koolaid
have the punch
Boy get laid-- you pack a punch
I know this is the way.

Dr. Livingston I presume
say you're after my lovedoom
I say I'm after afternoon
When your girl goes home
and you're alone
In your pants
In your head

I fought the great big white rhino.
He stabbed me in the heart.
He's such a clever asshole.
I'm such a super tart.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

An Invitation to Lubberland

Sung to the tune of Billy and Molly or The Journey-man Shoemaker by Daniel Cooper.

There is all sorts of Fowl and Fish,
With Wine and store of Brandy;
Ye have there what your hearts can wish:
The Hills are Sugar-Candy

There is a ship, we understand,
Now riding in the river;
Tis newly come from Lubberland,
The like I think was never;
You that a lazy life do love.
I'd have you now go over,
They say the land is not above
Two thousand leagues from Dover.

The captain and the master too,
Do's give us this relation,
And so do's all the whole ship's crew,
Concerning this strange nation:
"The streets are pav'd with pudding-pies,
nay, powder'd-beef and bacon,
They say they scorn to tell you lies:'
Who thinks it is mistaken.

The king of Knaves, and Queen of Sluts
Reign there in peace and quiet;
You need not fear to starve your guts,
There is such store of dyet:
There may you live free from all care,
Like hogs set up a fat'ning;
The garments which the people wear
Is silver, silk and satin.

The lofty buildings of this place
For many years have lasted;
With nutmegs, pepper, cloves, and mace,
The walls are there rough-cast,
In curious hasty-pudding boil'd,
And most ingenious carving;
Likewise they are with pancakes ty'd,
Sure, here's no fear of starving.

The captain says, "In every town,
Hot roasted pigs will meet ye,
They in the streets run up and down,
Still crying out, Come eat me"
Likewise, he says, "At every feast,
The very fowls and fishes,
Nay from the biggest to the least,
Comes tumbling to the dishes.

"The rivers run with claret fine,
The brooks with rich canary,
The ponds with other sorts of wine,
To make your hearts full merry:
Nay, more than this, you may behold,
The fountains flow with brandy,
The rocks are like refined gold,
The hills are sugar candy.

"Rose-water is the rain they have,
Which comes in pleasant showers,
All places are adorned brave,
With sweet and fragrant flowers.
Hot custards grows on ev'ry tree,
Each ditch affords rich jellies;
Now if you will be ruled by me,
Go there and fill your bellies.

"There's nothing there but holy-days
With music out of measure;
Who can forbear to speak the praise
Of such a land of pleasure?
There may you lead a lazy life
Free from all kind of labours:
And he that is without a wife,
May borrow of his neighbour.

"There is no law nor lawyer's fees
All men are free from fury,
For ev'ry one do's what he please,
Without a judge or jury:
The summer-time is warm they say,
The winter's ne'er the colder,
They have no landlords' rent to pay
Each man is a free-holder."

You that are free to cross the seas
Make no more disputation:
In Lubber-land you'll live at ease,
With pleasant recreation:
The Captain waits but for a gale
Of prosperous wind and weather,
And then they soon will hoist up sail,
Make haste away together.''

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Rain

Rain

Newman Levy

On the isle of Pago Pago, land of palm trees, rice and sago,
Where the Chinaman and Dago dwell with natives dusky hued,
Lived a dissolute and shady, bold adventuress named Sadie,
Sadie Thompson was the lady, and the life she lived was lewd.

She had practised her profession in our insular possession,
Which, to make a frank confession, people call the Philippines.
There she'd made a tidy profit till the clergy, hearing of it,
Made her life as hot as Tophet, driving her to other scenes.

So this impudent virago hied herself to Pago Pago
Where the Chinaman and Dago to her cottage often came.
Trade was lucrative and merry, till one day the local ferry
Brought a noble missionary, Rev'rend Davidson by name.

Stern, austere and apostolic, life was no amusing frolic.
Braving fevers, colds and colic, he had come with prayers and hymns,
Most intolerant of wowsers, to those primitive carousers
Bearing chaste and moral trousers to encase their nether limbs.

In her quaint exotic bower, 'mid a never-ending shower,
Sadie Thompson, by the hour, entertained the local trade.
Every night brought more and more men, soldiers, natives, clerks and store-men,
Sailors, gallant man-of-war men, while her gay victrola played.

"Ha!" exclaimed the irate pastor, "straight you're headed for disaster.
I'll convince you who's the master, shameless woman of the street
"Listen, Rev.," said Sadie tartly, pardon me for punning smartly
"Though I get your meaning-partly - still, alas, a girl must eat."

"Girl," he cried in indignation, "choose at once between salvation
And immediate deportation from this charming tropic glade.
Like a devastating plague, 0 Scarlet Dame of Pago Pago,
You're as welcome as lumbago, plying here your brazen trade."

Sadie said, "Though I'm no scoffer, that's a lousy choice you proffer,
Still I must accept your offer though my pride has been attacked.
Come on, Rev., and let us kill a flask or two of sarsaparilla
Here in my delightful villa while I watch you do your act."

Let us veil the tragic sequel, for a pious man but weak will
Find, alas, that he's unequal to a lady's potent charms.
So his long suppressed libido, sharp as steel of famed Toledo,
Spurning prayers and hymns and credo, found surcease in Sadie's arms.

There beside the waters tidal, urged by impulse suicidal,
Lay, next day, the shattered idol, cleansed at last of sin and taint.
Here's the moral: Though a preacher fail to make a fallen creature
Pure and saintly as her teacher, she, perhaps, can make a saint.

Friday, May 18, 2012

Longevity

The horse and mule live thirty years
And never know of wines or beers.
The goat and sheep at twenty die
And never taste of scotch or rye.
The cow drinks water by the ton
And at eighteen is mostly done.
The dog at fifteen cashes in
Without the aid of rum or gin.
The cat in milk or water soaks
Then at twelve it drops and croaks.
The modest, sober, bone-dry hen
Lays eggs for nogs, and dies at ten.
All animals are strictly dry,
They sinless  live and sinless die.
But sinful, ginful, rum-soaked men
Survive for three-score years and ten.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Limerick

There was a young lady named Ransom,
Who screwed three times in a hansom.
But when she asked for more
Came a weak voice from the floor
"My name is Simpson, not Samson."

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

You Suck

You Suck, by OLuvs Adderrall

 

Monday, April 23, 2012

An Address to the New Tay Bridge

Beautiful new railway bridge of the Silvery Tay,
With thy beautiful side-screens along your railway,
Which will be a great protection on a windy day,
So as the railway carriages won’t be blown away,
And ought to cheer the hearts of the passengers night and day
As they are conveyed along they beautiful railway,
And towering above the Silvery Tay,
Spanning the beautiful river shore to shore
Upwards of two miles and more,
Which is most wonderful to be seen
Near by Dundee and the bonnie Magdalen Green.

Thy structure to my eye seems strong and grand,
And the workmanship most skilfully planned;
And I hope the designers, Messrs Barlow & Arrol, will prosper for many a day
For erecting thee across the beautiful Tay.
And I think nobody need have the least dismay
To cross o’er thee by night or by day,
Because thy strength is visible to be seen
Near by Dundee and the bonnie Magdalen Green.

William McGonagall 

Saturday, April 14, 2012

The Henpecked Husband

Curs'd be the man, the poorest wretch in life,
The crouching vassal to a tyrant wife!
Who has no will but by her high permission,
Who has not sixpence but in her possession;
Who must to he, his dear friend's secrets tell,
Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than hell.
Were such the wife had fallen to my part,
I'd break her spirit or I'd break her heart;
I'd charm her with the magic of a switch,
I'd kiss her maids, and kick the perverse bitch.

Robert Burns

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Martinis

I like to have a martini,
Two at the very most.
After three I'm under the table,
After four I'm under my host.

Dorothy Parker

Thursday, March 29, 2012

The Bully

Do you remember the bully from school
The one who tried to make you look like a fool
He'd push you and shove you and take your lunch money
He'd laugh at you, sneer at you, thought it was funny

But one day this bully got a nasty surprise
You shoved him back, the look in his eyes
He didn't expect it, his bluff had been answered
His ticket as bully had been made void and cancelled

The bully who bullies you from morning to night
Maybe it's time that he got a big fright
Maybe it's time that this big puff of nothing
Was punched in the guts, knocked out the stuffing

You won't be any longer handing over your lunch money
Because from your point of view, there isn't anything funny
About being ordered to inhale fumes of tobacco most acrid
By someone whose muscles are really quite flaccid      

Alessandra Liverani

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Bikini'ed Gravitease

Bikini'ed Gravitease.

With tongues a'waggin' down at the beach...
Thonged bikini's admired by men's eyes just a'stretchin' to reach.
Telescopic eyes do wink and a'flutter...
Men stare on like wolfish types, that are a pack's own eviled like
brothers.
Roundly mounds of bubbling flesh, tend to over flow over a tightly held bikini bra'ed potted container...
When one femaled torso is top heavied and proportionately gifted,
Nothing may constrain her-Since her chest is so highly lifted.
Whiplashed necks react to the cracks from the quickened neck's stare...
Staring at well endowed women can take a well thought out care.
Jiggle, jiggle, thunder and roar...
It's only time until those magical round orbs bustle and soar.
Now that is what i call the bare gravetease...
To thine eyes, i do well welcome, these paired dueled cones, well do
please.
My groinaled area, is no longer at ease.
The female form do hold my eyes...To this bare fact, there is no disguise.
The large hootered lady can hold my attention...
I am most certainly held in a trance like erection.
This surfboard that's stiffened as in between my legs...
Will forever more, spray out like full shaken beer kegs.
Hour glass shape i do so love...
I wish to feel, as a tight fitting glove.
Michael Gale

Sunday, March 18, 2012

A Great Graduation Speaker

They gave him twenty minutes
But he finished up in ten.
Oh, there's a prince of speakers
And a servant unto men.

His diction wasn't very much,
He hemmed and hawed a bit;
But he spoke a lot of sense,
And, after that, he quit.

At first we sat plumb paralyzed,
Then cheered and cheered again;
For they gave him twenty minutes
And he finished up in ten.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

You're the Top

YOU’RE THE TOPAnonymous

You’re the top!
You’re Miss Pinkham’s tonic.
You’re the top!
You’re a high colonic.
You’re the burning heat of a bridal suite in use.
You’re the breasts of Venus
You’re King Kong’s penis,
You’re self-abuse.
You’re an arch
In the Rome collection.
You’re the starch
In a groom’s erection.
I’m a eunuch who
Has just been through an op,
But if, Baby, I’m the bottom
You’re the top.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

The Moose Song

Traditional
When I was a young lad I used to like girls,
I'd play with their corsets and fondle their curls.
'Till one day, my lady I caught with some churl,
Now you'd never get treated that way by a moose.

Chorus:
And it's moose! Moose! I want a moose!
I have never had anything quite like a moose!
I've had many women, my life has been loose,
But I've never had anything quite like a moose

Now when I'm in need of a very good lay,
I go to my closet and get me some hay.
I go to my window and spread it around.
'Cause moose always come when there's hay on the ground.

Well, I've done it with all sorts of beasties with hair,
I'd do it with snakes if their fangs were not there,
I've done it with walrus, a monkey, and goose
But I've never had anything quite like a moose.

Oh, gorillas are fun on a Saturday night,
And lions and tigers can put up a fight,
But it's not quite the same when I ram their caboose,
As the feeling I get when I hump on a moose.

I've tried many beasties on land or on sea
I've even tried hump-backs that humped back on me!
Sharks are quite good, tho they're hard to pull loose
But on dry land there is nothing quite like a moose!

Woodchucks are all right except that they bite
And foxes and rabbits won't last thru the night!
Cows would be fun, but they're hard to seduce
But you never need worry should you find a moose!

Step in my study, and trophies you'll find
A black striped tiger and scruffy maned lion
You'll know the elephant by his ivory tooth
And the one that's a-winking, you know is the moose!

The lion succumbed to a thirty-ought-six
Machine guns and tigers I've proved do not mix
The elephant fell by a bomb with a fuse
But I won't tell a soul how I did in the moose!

When I go a huntin', I don't take a gun,
I just take myself and have lots of fun.
I get up behind them, then get myself loose,
Now I've never had anything quite like a moose!

I've found many women attracted to me
A few of them have had me over for tea
Some say that they love me when they're feeling loose
But I'd trade the world's women for one lovely moose!

The good Lord made Adam, and then He made Eve
Said He: "If you sin now, I'll ask you to leave!"
They left not because of Eve's forbidden fruit
But 'cause Adam decided the moose there were cute!

The English are said to like boars who've had corn
The Celtics just dream of the young Unicorn
The Germans, it's said, just need leather and rope
But give me a moose and I'll no longer mope!

The king of the gods is a fellow named Zeus,
On top of Olympus with an urge to seduce.
They offered him virgins but he'd just refuse,
"Screw all of your virgins and bring me a moose!"

Oh, the bride of ol' Bill, it's never been told
Had surrendered her virtue indecently bold
But she still has her "Moose" - she's happily his wife
Proof even a woman can have one for life.

Now I've broken the laws in this god-awful state
They've put me in prison and locked up the gate
They say that tomorrow I'll swing from a noose
But my last night I'll spend with a good sexy moose!

Next morning the Governor's word reached my ears
"We've commuted your sentence to ninety-nine years!"
"You won't get parole; not a five minute's truce,
And your friend goes to Sing-Sing, he's so big-a-moose!"

Well, now that I'm old and advanced in my years,
When I look at my past I'll shed me no tears,
As I sit in my rocker with a glass of Mateus,
Playing hide the salami with Millie the Moose!

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Limerick

Once there was a man named Bound
While cutting his lawn, he drowned.
It was dark, and he fell
Down the shaft of a well;
Couldn't tell his grass from a hole in the ground.

Monday, March 12, 2012

Ode to Spot

Ode to Spot

Felis catus is your taxonomic nomenclature,
An endothermic quadruped, carnivorous by nature;
Your visual, olfactory, and auditory senses
Contribute to your hunting skills and natural defenses.

I find myself intrigued by your subvocal oscillations,
A singular development of cat communications
That obviates your basic hedonistic predilection
For a rhythmic stroking of your fur to demonstrate affection.

A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents;
You would not be so agile if you lacked its counterbalance.
And when not being utilized to aid in locomotion,
It often serves to illustrate the state of your emotion.

O Spot, the complex levels of behavior you display
Connote a fairly well-developed cognitive array.
And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend,
I nonetheless consider you a true and valued friend.

parallax7d
Found on the internet

Friday, March 9, 2012

Clementine

CHORUS: I owe my darlin', I owe my darlin',
I owe my darlin' Clementine,
Three bent pennies and a nickel,
Oh my darlin' Clementine.

There she stood beside the bar rail,
Drinking pink gins for two bits,
And the swollen whiskey barrels
Stood in awe beside her tits.

Eyes of whiskey, lips of water
As she sodden at me peer,
Dawns the daylight in her temple
With a f**king-warming leer.

Hung me guitar on the bar rail
At the sweetness of the sign,
In one leap lept out me trousers
Plunged into the foaming brine.

She was bawdy, she was busty
She could match the great Buzoom,
As she strained out of her bloomers
Like a melon tree in bloom.

Oh the oak tree and the cypress
Never more together twine,
Since that creeping poison ivy
Laid its blight on Clementine.

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Two Literary Limericks

[William Wordsworth's Intimations of Immortality]
In childhood it's easy to feel,
The eternal suffusing the real'
But as the beholder
Gets steadily older
It doesn't seem like such a big deal.
                     [Nigel Andrews]

[T.S. Eliot's The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock]
An angst-ridden amorist, Fred,
Saw sartorial changes ahead;
His mind kept on ringing
With fishy girls singing.
Soft fruit also filled him with dread.
                 [J. Walker]

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

A Serious Manifesto

I'm the Bastard King of England,
I like to sing and dance;
And if you don't believe me
I'll kick you in the ass.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Miss Bailey's Ghost

A Captain bold in Halifax,
Who dwelt in country quarters,
Seduced a maid who hanged herself
One morning in her garters,
His wicked conscience smited him,
He lost his stomach daily,
He took to drinking turpentine
And thought upon Miss Bailey.
Oh, Miss Bailey, unfortunate Miss Bailey,
Oh, Miss Bailey, unfortunate Miss Bailey,


One night, betimes he went to bed,
For he had caught a fever,
Said he, "I am a handsome man
And I'm a gay deceiver."
His candle just at twelve o'clock
Began to burn quite palely,
A ghost stepped up to his bedside
And said, "Behold! Miss Bailey."
Oh, Miss Bailey, unfortunate Miss Bailey,
Oh, Miss Bailey, unfortunate Miss Bailey,


"Avaunt, Miss Bailey," then he cried,
"You can't fright me really."
"Dear Captain Smith," the ghost replied,
"You've used me ungenteelly.
The Coroner's quest was hard with me
Because I've acted frailly,
And parson Biggs won't bury me
Though I'm a dead Miss Bailey."
Oh, Miss Bailey, unfortunate Miss Bailey,
Oh, Miss Bailey, unfortunate Miss Bailey,


"Dear Ma'am," said he, "since you and I
Accounts must once for all close,
I have a one pound note in my
Regimental small clothes.
'Twill bribe the Sexton for your grave."
The ghost then vanished gaily,
Crying, "Bless you wicked Captain Smith,
Remember poor Miss Bailey."
Oh, Miss Bailey, unfortunate Miss Bailey,
Oh, Miss Bailey, unfortunate Miss Bailey,

Sunday, March 4, 2012

The Gilligan Tempest

Now, gentles, sit!  And yes shall hear a tale,
The story of a voyage marr'd by fate,
Commencing from a port of tropic clime
Aboard a vessel minuscule, the mate
A sailor full of puissance, yet not more
Than was his captain.  That idyllic shore
Sent forth five passengers upon a tour
Of but three hours' time; the weather played
The strumpet with the ship, her serenade
Turned hurricano, and not small at all,
Her crew's exertions nurs'd her to the lee
Of a long-forgotten atoll.  There lamed,
Brave Gilligan and his captain dwell beside
A merchant rich as Croesus and his bride,
A wanton actress, a most learned man,
And Mary Ann,
Upon the isle for which our play is named!
--
(with apologies to the bard)

[Found, and enjoyed]