Odes to Unlikely Lovers
or
In Praise of Gutter Love
There is a young artist named Bob
whose medium is wattle and daub.
His demeanor’s a dud–
he’s as exciting as mud–
but he knows how to slobber a knob.
An impoverished young lad on the dole,
tired of dining on Marmite and vole,
said, “Blast and confound!
I must earn a pound!”
so he learned to take poles up his hole.
A dental assistant named Young
had a queer fascination with tongues–
his own was so long
that some thought it a schlong
when he rammed his hung tongue up their bung.
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