There was a young woman named Croft
Who played with herself in a loft,
Having reasoned that candles
Could never cause scandals,
Besides which they never went soft.

Contravening the guidelines on health,
Butcher George likes exposing himself,
But he hides it away
In the sausage display
When young ladies come up to the shelf.

Said a woman with open delight,
“My pubic hair’s perfectly white.
I admit there’s a glare,
But the fellows don’t care.
They locate it more quickly at night.”

There once was an odious brute
Who made love in his Sunday-best suit.
The result, as you’d guess,
Was a wet, sticky mess,
And a very chaifed maiden to boot.

There was an old fellow named Paul
Whose prick was exceedingly small
When in bed with a lay
He could screw her all day
Without touching the vaginal wall.

There once was a man from Pompei
Who fashioned a snatch out of clay
The heat from his prick,
Turned the clay into brick
And tore all his foreskin away!!

There was a young girl who begat
Three brats, by name Nat, Pat, and Tat.
It was fun in the breeding,
But hell in the feeding
When she found she had no tit for Tat.