From the stable-yard’s deepening gloom
Lady Sarah, with cheeks all abloom,
Came with clothing skewiff,
Whilst with organ still stiff,
In the shadows lurked Hitchcock, the groom!
Month: December 2024
Puppy love
The young lady who lives in the Grange,
For her hounds has a passion quite strange:
She does things with her beagle
Distinctly illegal,
And has, says her house-maid, the mange!
The Raj
In the days when Brittania was grander,
A girl could laze on her verandah,
And tickle her twat
When the weather was hot,
While a muscular black fellow fanned her.
Convivial pursuit
The rich ride in pursuit of the fox,
Across fields, through gardens and flocks.
It’s a sexual thing:
The hounds bay, bugles ring,
Jodhpurs strain over fannies and cocks.
Literary appreciation
I consider it jolly good form
To reside where the climate is warm:
When the weather’s cyclonic,
To drink gin and tonic,
And talk about Somerset Maugham.
Rules of Games
With the tip of my pearl-handled foil,
I toucheed her clitoris royal…
The onlookers were hushed…
Quoth Her Majesty, flushed,
“That is not, Sir, according to Hoyle!”
Faint heart, fair lady
When Leticia Fitzgerald-Jones fainted,
A chap not the least bit acquainted
Thought “How’s that for luck!”
He partook of a fuck,
And then left her there, gooey and tainted!
Higher things
Said the milk-maid to James Brown Esquire,
“Milord, I shall truly expire!
Your cock, long and wide
Has undone me inside,
But before I die, push it in higher!”
Aplomb
In the night, or at least after dusk,
On his mattress of coconut husk,
Lest he lose his aplomb
The expatriate Pom
Fucks his wife in a manner most brusque.
Sans souci
Through the smock that my parlour-maid dons
You can see her luxuriant mons:
It occasions more snickers
Than if she wore knickers,
Which garment she tends to go sans!