Sadly, Albert Camus, confidentially,
Didn’t live life existentially.
Sex, in a word,
He found rather absurd,
But still better than no sex, essentially.
Rutting season
He was big, he was handsome and strong.
Though she knew that to root him was wrong,
She just knew that she would,
Though she tried to be good,
Poor sweet virgin, alas! (Not for long!)
Modern ethos
She smokes dope, she’s a bit of a boozer,
But not, like, a regular user.
She hangs mostly with guys;
They root sometimes. Surprise!
Just for fun. She’s not some kind of loser!
The rake’s progress
With the dissolute ways he’d espoused,
He dressed rakishly, gambled, caroused.
He’d squeeze tits, pat and rub
Wenches’ cunts at the pub;
Codpiece bulging the more, when aroused!
Pert
In polite terms, folk said she was pert;
She was impish and saucy, a flirt,
Bodice bursting its laces,
She loved the men’s faces
The stains on their pants when they’d squirt!
Circa 1960
She dropped in for a neighbourly chat,
Brought an apple pie too! Fancy that!
Such the nice thing to do…
So he gave her a screw,
On the floor, by the door, on the mat!
Circa 1955
He dressed sharp, he was cool, in the groove.
He strolled up to her, made his best move!
Didn’t score, I’m afraid,
Didn’t get himself laid,
But his chances could only improve!
Pièce de résistance
She’d been partying at the fiesta;
She’d undressed to have a siesta.
She fought and she swore;
It just turned him on more!
Such resistance! A goddamn pièce de!
Carpe diem!
Sore and sorry, she wanted to cry.
He was too big. Her pussy was dry.
The first time’s seldom great;
The boy just wouldn’t wait!
Should they stop? No, she’d much rather die!
Highs and lows
In a doorway, behind a closed shop,
They smoked dope, he unfastened her top.
They were horny and high;
She had sex with the guy.
Well, he fucked her. She didn’t say stop!