Sunday, March 11, 2007

So's Yours

Where have you been, sipping gin in
the inn across the street from the heat, beat?
I'm talking to the guy who eyes me in the window though
I've always said no go.
He's on a cunt hunt.
So I said to him, Jim,
Thanks but no thanks and you can wank
Upstairs where I can catch you unawares.
Who do you think you are, Beaver Cleaver?
You're talking to Sally, the gally across the alley.
Thank you for inviting me to your bachelor pad, cad.
Did you think like a kid I was born, say, yesterday?
You've always hedged bets and said let's.
This gin is no sin but a kiss for sis.
If you are my ex than what is sex, Rex?

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

fly by day
crawl by night
pray for May
and hope its tight
peasant hips can bring fruition
certain aim can beg contrition
the wife of bath
had separate teeth
no taking her for Yasmin Bleeth
yet as for knowledge
hers was better
she knew the route
she loved the fetter
when autumn comes and things seem dry
tis best to have a wench that's wry
her amplitude is most bodacious
here samplitude is quite voracious
so as Ben Franklin aptly quoted
the pussy ages last…so noted.

Hack "Baton Rouge" Wilson

12:08 PM  

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