Lady Sarah Smythe-Jones, by repute,
Leads a life, in a word, dissolute:
She drinks only champagne,
Likes her sex mixed with pain,
And quite likes the alternative route.
Rain
If you’re stuck in the rain in Rangoon,
A loose woman’s a fabulous boon:
You can endlessly screw her,
Do other things to her,
And never go out until June!
The giveaway
Sobbed the maid,”I’ve been diddled and pawed!
My poor teats have been nibbled and gnawed!
Lord Hugh never behaved
So uncouth and depraved:
I suspect that you, sir, are a fraud!
Urge
As the cook kneaded dough for his pasta,
Being watched by her lecherous master,
Her dress became wet
With her sweet-smelling sweat,
As he urged her to knead his dough faster!
The sitting
Lady Swandown agreed to be painted:
“By art,” she said, “one can’t be tainted.”
She gladly posed nude,
But refused to be screwed,
And yet was, when he flashed, and she fainted.
Plummy
I’ve a penchant for lasses whose mums
Make them speak with a mouthful of plums,
Who wear tight skirts and heels,
Which nicely reveals
The sway of their silken-smooth bums.
Put in his place
Said Miss Vanderbilt, “Please, sir, no more!
I insist that you promptly withdraw!
I reserve my vagina
For something much finer
Than what may be done with a whore!”
Dissolute
I like ladies in satins and minks,
Fond of pouts and lascivious winks:
They’re so commonly bored,
And can gladly afford
To indulge in some decadent kinks!
The price
He dismissed both the butler and maid,
And he pulled down the living-room shade.
He said “Sit by the fire.
Come, lift your skirt higher.
You know, dear, how well you’ll be paid!”
Room service
Should one’s butler or footman intrude
In a room where one’s wife’s being screwed,
He should promptly withdraw,
Closing also the door,
So madame may, in private, conclude.