When young women go out on a date,
It’s the primeval search for a mate,
So they groom and they dress
To entice and impress,
And try not to leave too much to fate.
Once a girl would have been chaperoned:
Private meetings were never condoned.
Well, back then that was great,
But these days kids don’t wait,
They hook up and get drunk or get stoned.
Now a girl does herself up as bait,
Almost serves herself up on a plate,
And behaviour’s routine,
Once thought lewd and obscene
Self respect and regrets come too late!
Not content with her natural state,
And obsessed with her body and weight,
A young girl now invests
In new super-size breasts,
Which go hard or cock-eyed, or deflate.
You could see it as funny or sad.
Modern girls are all stupid or mad.
They just can’t get it straight:
Why such distrust and hate
Of the natural beauty they had?
Month: December 2024
The direct approach
Though it’s not, strictly speaking, correct,
If the young lady doesn’t object,
You can bypass the hours
Of small talk and flowers,
And go to the fucking direct!
Trial by jury
There’s a naughty young lady called Coorey,
Who worked a bloke into a fury:
She said no (wink), (nudge).
Did she mean yes? You judge,
And we twelve next in line will be jury.
In the old days, of hot-rods and cola,
We all loved a nice rock ‘n’ roller,
Especially flirts,
In their short pleated skirts,
Not concerned about pushing a stroller.
Cave man
Laird of the ring
Every male of some Scottish clans
Wears a little brass ring through his glans,
And conceals thereby,
By a string down his thigh,
His life savings, in little tin cans.
Booze
After one or two glasses of booze,
Miss Virginia’s loins start to ooze:
She proclaims she wants cock
And as hard as a rock,
And she doesn’t mind very much whose!
Enid
The improbably proper Miss Blyton
Was easy to shock and to frighten:
She dined with the vicar,
She never drank liquor
And never made love with the light on.
Trom-bone
In the midst of the trickiest bit
Came a shriek from the orchestra pit,
Which was closely pursued
By a cry of “Damn rude!
Keep your trombone away from my tit!”
Moonlight serenade
I’ve a neighbour who plays the bassoon,
Every night by the light of the moon.
She stands out on her lawn,
Dressed the way she was born:
She looks nice, but she plays out of tune.