In ballads from time long gone by, At least one poor person would die, In utter disgrace And litter the place, While all the relations would cry.
The classic's that bitch Barbara Allen: Poor Jimmy Groves she kept stallin' It broke the lad's heart 'Cos her legs she'd not part, So he dies and she then starts a bawlin'...
...And goes off and dies in Nantucket. They'd neither of them kicked the bucket, Had she loosened her stays When he got a raise, Lain back and enjoyed where he stuck it.
You've heard those last rhymes before? Well 'tis a traditional score. If it's not new to you, Call it just deja vu, You'll probably find plenty more.
Such as...
So she too was laid in her grave, Exhumed by a hermit named Dave, Who wanting a spot Of mouldering twat, Took her away to a cave.
And an equally perverted chick, Found that she got quite a kick, From digging up Jimmy, And shouting "Jim gimme!" Bounced on his now rigid stave.
The moral, for you who are lurkin', Stop jerkin' your gherkin like Perkin, Don't sit there and stew, Go get you a screw, And get that old mojo a-workin'.
Last updated: Tue, 5 Oct 1999.