In the shade of an old apple tree,|
Where between her fat legs, I could see
A little brown spot
With the hair in a knot
And it certainly looked good to me
There was a fat lady of China|
Who had an enormous vagina
And when she was dead
They painted it red
And used it for docking a liner.
There was an old man of Newport|
Whose prick was remarkably short.
When he got into bed,
The old woman said,
"This isn't a prick, it's a wart!"
There was a young fellow from Florida|
Who liked a friend's wife, so he borrowed her.
When they got into bed,
He cried, "God strike me dead,
This ain't a cunt, it's a corridor!"
A fellow whose surname was Hunt|
Trained his cock to perform a slick stunt.
This versatile spout
Could be turned inside out
Like a glove and be used as a cunt.
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 was a young girl, very sweet,|
Who thought sailors' meat quite a treat.
When she sat on their lap,
She unbuttoned their flap
And always had plenty to eat.
There was a young lady of Mott|
Who inserted a fly up her twat
And pretended the buzz
Was not what it was,
But something she knew it was not.
There was a young man named Mcphee|
Who was stung in the balls by a bee.
He made oodles of money
By oozing pure honey
Everytime he attempted to pee.
There was a young man had the art|
Of making a capital tart
With a handful of shit
Some snot and a spit
And he'd flavour the whole with a fart.