Today's poems [3.25.20]
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There was a young man from St. Paul's
Who read Harper's Bazaar and McCall's
Till he grew such a passion
For feminine fashion
That he knitted a snood for his balls.
There was a young man from Bangore
Who was tired and said to his whore,
"If you'll only roll over
I'll get my dog Rover,
And you can have six inches more."
There was a young man from St. Paul
Who had really no scruples at all---
He would fart when he'd talk,
And shit when he'd walk,
And at night throw it over the wall.
There once was a man named MacBride
Who fell in a privy and died.
He had a young brother,
Who fell in another,
And now they're interred (in turd) side by side.
To Italy went Sinclair Lewis
Documenting the life led by loose
But he unpacked his trunks
'Cause Florence slipped him a goose.
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