An ode to the hole
That never heals.
The more you touch it
The better it feels.
You can rub it
And scrub it
And brush it like hell,
But you will never get rid
Of that fucking fish smell.
My back aches, my pussy is sore,
I simply can't fuck any more,
I'm covered with sweat,
And you haven't come yet,
And my God, it's a quarter to four!
There was a young lady named Maude
A terrible society fraud:
In company, I'm told
She was awfully cold.
But if you got her alone, Oh My God!
There was a young man from south Boston
Who's car was a small compact Austin.
There was just room inside
For his hair and his hide,
But his balls still hung out, so he lost 'em.
Oh, that supple young man of Montrose
Who tickled his tail with his toes!
His landlady said,
As she made up his bed,
"My God! How that man blows his nose!"
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