Today's poems [2.13.12]
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There was a young fellow named Bliss
Whose sex live was strangely amiss.
For even with Venus
His recalcitrant penis
Would seldom do better than t
The Jung Idea
The young things who frequent picture-palaces
Have no use for this psycho-analysis;
And although doctor Freud
Is distinctly annoyed
They cling to their long-standing fallacies.
Our vicar's an absolute lamb;
But when he sat dawn in a jam
On taking his seat
At our sunday school treat
We all heard the poor man say:...
"... Stand up, please, while I say grace !"
There was a young lady of Maine
Who declared she'd a man on her brain.
But you knew from the view
Of her waist as it grew
It was not on her brain that he'd lain.
There was a young fellow of Ealing
Endowed with such delicate feeling,
When he read on the door,
"Don't spit on the floor",
He lent back and spat on the ceiling.
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