Category: poems

Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
to have a little fun,
stupid Jill forgot the pill
and now they have a son.

I could write romantic poetry
if I could think up rhymes.

Tattoo “I love you” on my butt
about a million times.

I’d swim the deepest ocean
(if I wasn’t scared of sharks).

Carve our intials on a tree?
What?! And vandalize our parks?

I’d climb the highest mountain
if you’d drive me to Tibet.

Reenact our love with puppets?
No. That’s my dumbest idea yet!

Jeez, this is going badly-
it’s like my brain is stuck.

Just believe I love you-
now let’s go someplace and…

Cuddle.

See, I told you I had trouble with rhymes.

Our lager,
Which art in barrels,
Hallowed be thy drink.
Thy will be drunk, (I will be drunk),
At home as in the tavern.
Give us this day our foamy head,
And forgive us our spillages,
As we forgive those who spill against us.
And lead us not to incarceration,
But deliver us from hangovers.
For thine is the beer, The bitter and The lager.
Forever and ever,

Barmen.

Twinkle, Twinkle, little star how I wonder what you are
Shine upon the parking lot
As I eat my girlfrieds twat

Peter, Peter pumpkin eater
Saw a chick but couldn’t meat her
Saw her brother one fine day
Sucked his cock and now he’s gay

Jack Sprat could eat no fat
His wife could eat no lean
So he ignored her flabby tits
And licked her asshole clean.

Eenie Meenie Miney Mo
Suck my dick and swallow slow.

Mary Mary quite contrary
Shave that pussy its so damn hairy

Hickory Dickory Dock
Some chick was sucking my cock
The clock struck two I blew my goo
And dumped the bitch off at the next bock.

Hickory Dickory Dock
Some chick was sucking my cock
It was quite scary
All wrinkled and hairy
It smelled like a ten year old sock.

A couple named Willie and Nellie
Spent their honeymoon belly to belly
Because in their haste
They used epoxy paste
Instead of petroleum jelly.

Twas on the good ship Venus,
By Christ you should have seen us!
The figurehead was a whore in bed
And the mast was a raging penis.

The captain’s name was Morgan,
A homosexual gorgan!
Three times a day he used to play
With his erotic organ

The captain’s wife was Mabel
Whenever she was able,
She’d lie prostrate with the second mate
Upon the captain’s table.

The ship’s dogs name was Rover,
The crew they bowled him over.
They screwed that hound around and round
From Adelaide to Dover.

The captain’s eldest daughter
Was swimming in the water.
Delighted squeals revealed that eels
Had found her sexual quarter.

The cabin boy was Pipper,
An artful little nipper.
He stuffed his arse with broken glass
And circumcised the skipper!

He’s the tumbleweed chef and rides with the wagon
Ahead of the thunderin’ herd.
His pots and pans clack like a diamondback’s rattle,
He growls or he don’t say a word.

His face is a roadmap. Looks like a carcass
Hung too many days in the sun.
He sells like a mule and cooks with a shovel
And his fly is always undone.

The rider kin tell when he’s in the kitchen–
The buzzards all come into view.
He spits in the pan and shaves in the taters
and clips his toenails in the stew.

His gunpowder biscuits explode in the fire;
His beans explode in yer bowel.
His medda lark souffle is hard on the belly;
They say it tastes like an owl.

His coffee’s so rank a housefly won’t touch it.
Even buckshot floats in the slop.
You don’t pour a cup, you twist off a swaller.
Then chew a sip offa the top.

Now, Cowboys are tough guys who face death each day
In blizzards or stampedes or storms.
They ride them bad horses and sleep with the snakes
And duel with the hooves and the horns.

But many a cowboy who follered the wagon
Has joined the “Last Roundup Club”.
Not from indians, gunfights, or even bad whiskey,
But from eatin’ Camp Cookies’ grub.

Baxter Black

I woke early one morning,
The earth lay cool and still,
When suddenly a tiny bird,
Perched on my window sill,
He sang a song so lovely,
So carefree and so gay,
That slowly all my troubles,
Began to slip away,
He sang of far off places,
Of laughter and of fun.
I stirred beneath the covers,
Crept slowly out of bed,
Then gently shut the window,
And crushed his f%&#ing head,

I’m not a morning person.

There was an old lady from Wheeling,
And she had a particular feeling…
She laid on her back,
Opened her crack,
And peed all over the ceiling!

As I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my sould to keep.
And if I die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my toys to break,
So all the other kids can’t play with them.

(To be sung to the tune of that Witer Wonderland song)

Santa Claus, are you listening?
Mrs.Claus had sex with Blizten
I you want to know more,
Go next door
and find the hore who wanted more

(I admit this is one of my worst jokes. to get much better
ones, go to http://calum.8m.net .)

when i see ya shit,
i put up a fit,
cuz all thay remind me of is when i clean my ass,
and then when i see the grass,
i just pass out and die!