Oh come to the garden, dear Maud,
For long years your face I've adored,
Out there, midst the tulips,
I'll slip 'twixt your two lips
My 'normously throbbing pork sword.
My innocence, Jasper, you mock,
Your phrases have caused me great shock.
Besides, where my finger
Is touching your dinger,
It seems to be just a half cock.
Oh Maudie, come into the garden,
That fingertip gives me a hard-on.
And then there's your cleavage,
That bosomly heavage!
'Cos honey you're built like Dol Parton.
Sir Jasper! Such crude affectation,
Concerning my globes of lactation!
You, sir, are a brute; e-
ven so, 'tis my duty
To offer some small delectation.
Does that mean, dear Maud, you are willing,
To come out and get you a filling?
As stated Confucius:
For mating on fuchsias
I'd hand over more than a shilling.
No sir, I don't mean that at all,
I'll give sister Beryl a call,
Her rottweiler face
Will soon shrink your base,
She's sex-starved, will give you a ball.
Oh Maudie, that's really bad form,
To push me off when I'm so warm...
That Beryl's a whore,
But I got to score,
Or burst... any port in a storm.
Now he's off with Beryl the hideous,
I'll go get that fellow that Lydia's
Been trying to screw
For an hour or two,
that handsome stud Oggius Tiddius.
What do you mean?
Of course it's true.
Addendum:
It seems Maud's creator, Alf tennyson,
(to whom this poor scribe must give benison,)
Shocked the propriety
Of Queen Vic's society,...
Of vice dens Lord Alf was a denizen.
(That may be all lies, but it makes a rhyme.)
"Tennyson's Maud" can be found at:
http://www.geocities.com/~spanoudi/poems/tenny05.html
Last updated: Wed, 10 Jan 2001.