In search of a loo, Jenny's trotting.
Finds one in the park, down she's squatting;
In Northermost stall,
Adjacent the wall
Of the gents, and a hole there she's spotting.

A flesh-coloured, one-eyed protrusion,
Into her space makes an intrusion.
A game girl is Jenny,
Of fear she's not any,
She's massaged it to a conclusion.

A note then she hurriedly scrawls,
And pushes it in through the wall.
She wrote: "OK mate,
If you thought that great,
Tomorrow, same time, here I'll call."

So Jenny, in no way afraid,
Meets Jim in the car repair trade,
And gets a device,
She thinks will do nice,
For when that appointment is made.

At this point in sagas I mention
Some odd thing to build up the tension,
But now an old fool,
I'm not quite so crool,
I'll not so distract your attention.

So twenty four hours have passed,
She's reached the park rest room at last,
And just as she's seated,
Her vision is treated
To the very same quivering mast.

With one hand that object she kneads,
"Oh yes, baby, more... more..." he pleads.
Released is her grip
on the crocodile clip
She's got from some rusty jump leads

So Giggling, she runs, while that male's
Distress is revealed by the wails
Of pain from the throb
Of his sorely torn knob,
As he tries to release it and fails.

Now diamonds, 'twas said , when a youthful
Ogg was both innocent and truthful,
Are girlie's best friends,
But this story tends
To show that a croc clip's more utheful.

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Last updated: Thu, 12 Jul 2001.