Foreplay:
Now children, I've been quite remiss, Not telling you stories like this, For many a day; But you know what they say: All good things must end. Goodbye bliss.
The old English writers I've slaughtered, Told Dickens and Doyle like they oughta d- one, now I will see If Americans three Can also be hung drawn and quartered.
Alcott, Twain and Beecher Stowe, All wrote the same stuff, don't you know, So this compilation, Or agglomeration, Will sort them all out in one go.
Main thrust:
So come, let our story begin... Tom Sawyer and Huckleb'ry Finn, Were laid on their bunks, As drunk as two skunks... They'd been at Aunt Polly's sloe gin.
'Come on, Tom,' says Huck, the young hippy, 'We'll borrow a boat that's quite nippy, That'll be a fine stunt. We'll take Old Ben's punt, And sail down the great Mississippi.'
They snuck round to Tom's Uncle's cabin, And while the old fella was napping, Some bottles of corn Liquor, and plenty porn Magazines they were stealthily gravving.
They crept to the river so cold, Found a punt, hitched it free, and then poled Out into the lake... Then their first big mistake, They opened a mag's centerfold.
They eagerly studied the diff- Erences that girls had, and stiff- ened down in their pants, And gave not a glance At the path being took by their skiff.
Were the boobs on that model girl real, or False? Gee, they'd both like to peel her Of clothings, though few That just hid from view... Then along came a mighty stern-wheeler.
To that ship their small craft was unsighted, And the boys too engrossed to be frighted, In the water were thrown, Losing pics, booze and bones, But soon on an island alighted.
Dame Fortune the foolish caresses, Her plenitude now will impress us, For our shivering pair, Find piled neatly there, Silk panties, plus bras and fine dresses.
So in this lone place quite benighted, With limited choice they've decided, These garments to don, And pulling them on, Our heroes become quite excited.
These jessies now start to explore, And just round the bend they find four Young ladies, quite grand, Laid out on the sand, Whose beauty they cannot ignore.
Were Tom's next words ornithological? Perhaps you think meteorological? 'Hey Huck, I spy fun, Naked birds in the sun!'... I think they were fornicological.
These four, as I guess you all knew, Were Amy, Beth, Jo and sweet Sue, They arose with a squeal, And their laughter did peal: 'It's the Nancy boys, where's Hardy Drew?'
What followed from this assignation, I'll leave unto your 'magination. Suffice it to say, That the rest of the day Resulted in much procreation.
Afterglow:
With all of this junk I'm now bored, But I trust that you may well applaud, The rhymes that I shunt, [shunned, for the purists] for Huck, and the punt, By luck and the grace of the Lord.
One point: if it seems at first sight, That the names that I give aren't quite right, Of those four little women, Who naked were swimming, I'm trying to skirt copyright.
Last updated: Tue, 21 Sep 1999.