There once was a poet named Hind
Who said, “the best is all behind!
My once great verse
It grows steadily worse!
And the critics all kick my behind!”.
There once was a poet named Hind
Who said, “the best is all behind!
My once great verse
It grows steadily worse!
And the critics all kick my behind!”.
Their youthful passion unlocks.
She loses shoes and frock.
Then the vicar knocks …!
When I attended a singles swingers party
With the great and the somewhat arty,
A young lady named Claire
Tied me up with Flair.
Those knots they were really quite arty!
I met a group of young women
Who spoke of the joys of sinning.
But I, being shy
Hid in a pie
With the beautiful and talented Miss Winning!
Whilst singing a very old hymn
I spied that sinful Miss Lin.
She spoke of pleasure
In the sweet heather,
And I stopped singing that hymn …
When Rose took all her clothes off
The dear old vicar began to cough.
The weather being cold
Rose was most bold!
And the vicar he developed a cough …!
When a young man named Dave
Decided to shave on a grave,
And a ghastly ghoul
Called him a fool,
He gave that knave a shave!
In the land of smiles
Poets are free
To while away their time
In sweet poetry.
But a poet may find
His mind turn from rhyme
To bar girls who,
(strictly between us 2),
Have no time for rhyme …
As we drove fast round a very tight bend
A young lady said, “lets pretend I’m your girlfriend!”.
I said, “in this sports car
You and I will go far!”,
She said, “remember that this is only pretend!”
A man in a boat on a moat
Went and wrote a poem on his goat.
But the poem was not profound
And the poet he sadly drowned
And the police they are questioning the goat!