Florida man at night
Didn’t seem so bright
Cops felt his dick
he said it was a trick
Should have turned on his light


Keep it Dirty!
Florida man at night
Didn’t seem so bright
Cops felt his dick
he said it was a trick
Should have turned on his light
North Korea posed for a pic
Most soldiers really looked slick
One man to the side
He just couldn’t hide
His jumpsuit showed clearly, his dick
In Bavaria, the statue stood strong
Twas as girthy, as it was long
The artistic hard-on
Was there and then gone
Now, in its place, a brilliant new dong
Meat-rationing did not terrify Miss Davey,
She got married to a sailor in the Navy,
For she knew between his legs
He had ham and he had eggs,
A big weenie, and oodles of white gravy.
The was a man named Sir Lancelot
Who went to parties and danced a lot
When making a pass
At a young pretty lass
The front of his pants would advance a lot!
There was a young fellow named Dick
Who perfected a wonderful trick:
He’d get an erection
And scorn all protection,
Then balance himself on his prick.
An architect fellow named Yoric
Could, when feeling euphoric,
Display for selection
Three kinds of erection
Corinthian, ionic, and doric.
I know of a horny boy Matt
Who played with a vampire bat
With his dick in his hand
His voice did command
“Try sucking the blood out of that!”
There was a young man from Leeds
Who swallowed a packet of seeds.
Within an hour
His cock was in flower,
And his balls were all covered with weeds.
There once was a boy named Kevin
Who used a vacuum to stretch it to seven,
Then eight and then nine,
And though ten was divine,
There will be film at eleven.
There was an old man of Duluth
Whose cock was shot off in his youth.
He fucked with his nose,
And his fingers and toes,
And he came through a hole in his tooth.
There once was a man from Iraq
Who had holes down the length of his cock
When he got an erection,
He could play a selection
From Johann Sebastion Bach
There once was a man from Winsocket,
Who rode down the street on a rocket.
The force of the blast
blew his balls up his ass,
And his pecker was found in his pocket.
The last time I dined with the King
He did a most curious thing.
He sat on a stool,
Took out his tool,
And said, “If I play will you sing?”
My god! I look ancient today;
Overnight it would seem I’ve gone gray.
I’ve got aches, I’ve got pains,
I’ve got varicose veins
And my pecker has shriveled away.
Old George had an odd-looking dangular.
Rectangular? No, but triangular;
Isosceles too.
Three-dimensional? True;
Therefore tetrahedronically angular.
Oh never in all of her life
Had Belinda such trouble and strife
As when Tommy got stuck
In her having a fuck;
So she cut off his dick with a knife.
Contravening the guidelines on health
Butcher Frank likes exposing himself,
But he hides it away
In the sausage display
When young ladies come up to the shelf.
There once was a man named Ray
Who fashioned a cunt out of clay
But the heat of his prick
Turned the clay into brick
And tore all his foreskin away
There once was a man from Bombay
who made a cunt out of clay
He stuck in his dick,
the thing turned to brick
and he scraped his foreskin away.
There once was a man from Winsocket,
Who rode down the street on a rocket.
The force of the blast
blew his balls up his ass,
And his pecker was found in his pocket.
There once was a man from Bombay
who fashioned a cunt out of clay
but the heat from his prick
turned it to a brick
and chafed all his foreskin away.
There once was a lady from Exeter
so pretty that men craned their necks at her
one was even so brave
as to pull out and wave
the destinguishing mark of his sex at her.
There once was a girl named Screw Ma’lue
She went out west to find her fricken best
When she fucked, she fucked for keeps
Laid her victims up in heaps
But in this town named Bad-Ass Crete
There lived a half-assed bastard named Piss-Pot Pete
With snot in his beard and shit on his feet
He had twenty-six pounds of swinging meat
Well Screw Ma’lue had met her fate
Turning back was much to late
Until this date today
Her drawers hang in the town’s cafe
Brigadier Fotheringay
Had a permanent trouser affray,
And his aim when he fired
Was so rarely admired
For his shooting went often astray.
Poor Gregory can’t get his pole
Up his girl for a tumble and roll
For he has a square peg,
And his paramour Meg
Has a perfectly circular hole.
There was a young man from Savannah,
Who met his end in a curious manner.
He whittled a hole
In a telephone pole
And electrified his banana.
His brother, a bastard named Ben,
Could rotate his pecker, and then
He would shoot through his rear,
Which made him the dear
Of the girls, and the envy of men.
There was a young fellow named Biddle,
Was seldom hard up for a diddle,
For according to rumor,
His tool had a tumor,
And a fine row of warts down the middle.
There once was a man with a member,
That would only stand up in December,
He said, “It’s too cold,
For a hard-on so bold,
I wish it would work in September!”
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.
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!!