The ancient Greeks loved little boys
From them they got such sexual joys.
The modern Greeks are much the same,
But now they put them on the game.
Sorry Malo, I just went iambic,
I shouldn't get up to such antic.
May anapests thrive,
And the lines come to five,
Or the rest of this crew will go frantic.

It's the ancient of which I'm a-telling
Of that smart bit of crumpet, Queen Helen.
To Paris she went,
And a fine time was spent,
When she came back her belly was swellin'.

Agamemnon, or perhaps Menelaus,
Said: "We'll get this bloke Troy, make him pay us.
We'll sail up the Seine,
And beat out his brain,
And we'll get all those frogs to obey us."

Four hundred old boats sailed that day.
(A thousand ships? Never. no way.)
To Lesbos they sailed;
At seduction they failed;
'Twas the first time they'd met ladies gay.

So they carried on down through the Med,
With never a woman to ved,
Except Helen the queen,
And they knew where she'd been,
So they made do with barrels instead.

When they came to the straits of Gibraltar,
Their orders they checked, and did falter.
Destination was Troy,
Not Paris! With annoy-
ance their course they were forced thus to alter..

So finally reaching the port,
The one they at first should have sought,
They scrambled ashore,
To the city they tore,
And many a battle was fought.

Then Achilles or one of that crowd,
Of down-at-heel no-goods, cried loud:
"We can stop this damned war,
If we build us a whore,
Out of wood, and just leave  as if  cowed.

"Inside it we'll stuff our dear queen,
She's as raddled as that queer old dean,
They'll take in the box,
And they'll all get the pox,
'Cos she'll roger them all she's so keen."

So the Trojans all dived in her ditch,
And their cocks soon developed an itch,
Of the pox they all died,
And the greeks marched inside,
On account of that randy old bitch.

Menelaus, or perhaps  Agamemnon,
Soon found a new partner to lie on.
As implied at the start,
Not a nice looking tart,
But Paris's ten year old grandson.




Tiddy Ogg.