Today's poems [6.2.18]
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There once was a man from Nepal
Whose turds were exceedingly small.
He'd sit in his room
And shit on a spoon
And then flick his turds down the hall.
There once was a geologist named Wassal,
Who one day found a colossal fossil.
He could tell by the bend,
And the knob at the end,
That it was the peter of Paul, the apostile.
There once was a Bactrian camel
Who was bound by no fetter or trammel.
When he tried to make hay
In his Bactrian way,
His wife said, "Make me; I'm a mammal."
There was a young lady from Eaton
Whose figure had plenty of meat on.
She said: 'Wed me, Jack,
And you'll find that my back
Is a nice place to warm your cold feet on'.
Father, don't I have to work?
No, my lucky son.
We're living now on Easy Street,
on dough from Washington.
We've left things up to Uncle Sam,
so don't get exercised.
No-one has to give a damn.
We've all been subsidized!
But if Sam treats us all so well,
and feeds us milk and honey,
please, Daddy, tell me what the hell
He's going to do for money?
Don't worry, Bub, there's not a hitch
in this-here noble plan.
We merely soak the Filthy Rich
and feed the Common Man.
But, Daddy, won't there come a time
when they'll run out of cash?
And we'll have left, then, not a dime
and things will go to smash?!
My faith in you is shrinking, son,
you nosey little brat!
You do too damned much thinking, son,
to be a Democrat!
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