My Lord and My Lady Greystoke, When out in the jungle were broke, So to pay for their fun They sold their young son, To some chimps, and they thought it a joke.
Two chimps, just on pair out of many, Had a baby, but of knees, there weren't any, So their goods they did hock, And said to the doc, "Can we have two ape knees for a penny."
Now readers, please don't get downhearted, So soon though the plot we've departed, For a pun quite obscure, 'less you're aged 54 And British. So, back where we started...
With those apes he grew up to a man, Though he thought himself orang-utan, As he swung from lianas, Eating nuts and bananas, And his favourite food, tarzipan.
So it's plain he was quite a barbarian, (Although, to be fair, vegetarian,) And he had nights of passion, With baboons, monkey-fashion, Soon several his seed were a-carrying.
What became, you may ask, of his fruit? What job or profession would suit? Yes you've guessed, their ambition, Was to be politicians, Depriving us all of our loot.
On this facet I'll no longer ponder, Or again from the plot I will wander. Where's our hero, untutored, Jeez, he ought to be neutered! Just look what he's doing out yonder.
One day, in the season of rain, Who should arrive but young Jane, In a tee-shirt so wet That you'd think it would get, Our Tarboy's dick throbbing with strain.
"Hey Mowgli," she cries, "My name's Jane. So he looks at her, thinks "Ain't she plain. She's no body hair, I'll keep boffing the bear, Called Baloo or Yogi whats-'is-name."
But wait, for she shows him her charms, She's French, with fine tufts under arms, So he's slowly won round, And they fall to the ground, Entangled in each other's arms.
Now ain't that romantic and sweet, Azul sure would find it a treat, But good things don't last, He fucked hard and fast, And soon they both lay there replete.
She says to him "Come on my son, Let's take a walk down to the pond, Just take a look At your face, in the brook." He does, and yells "Whee, I'm a swan!"
Tiddy.
Some are sane and some are mad, Some are good and some are bad, Some are better and some are worse, But all can be expressed in verse. - T S Elliot. Watch it T S, you might be next for the scrambled Ogg treatment.
Last updated: Tue, 21 Sep 1999.