No bull

An old weather-worn Narrabri ringer,
Renowned as a big bull-shit slinger,
To Nellie’s surprise
Slipped between her fat thighs,
What he’d promised: a fucking hum-dinger!

Country sheilas

Country women work hard and don’t nag.
They enjoy a cold beer and a fag,
Don’t sit round on their bums,
Cook and clean like their mums,
And they like a nice roll in the swag.

When a country girl’s tits start to sag,
She’s still good for a grope and a shag.
She still fancies her figure.
Her arse may be bigger,
That’s only more tail to wag!

Though her bloke’s a bit rough and a dag,
Put him down and you wave a red rag.
You’ll be in for a blue:
He’s her number-one screw.
And for God’s sake, don’t call her a slag!

Gert

There’s a girl in the village called Gert,
Who goes knickerless under her skirt:
She’ll be yours for the night
If you play your cards right,
But you have to pull out when you squirt.

Ellie-May

Farmer Brown’s daughter, young Ellie-Mae
Was seduced, or more like, led astray,
But it has to be said
She was willingly led
And was ripe for a roll in the hay.

On a hot, steamy, still summer’s day
It began just as innocent play;
Only boisterous fun
In a field, in the sun,
Until hormones got into the way.

In unconscious erotic display,
As she ran her big bosom would sway
In a way unrestrained,
Being poorly contained
In a dress thin and starting to fray.

To the young fellow’s utmost dismay,
(as it would, if a bloke wasn’t gay),
His undisciplined cock
Became hard as a rock.
It stuck out, and would not go away!

They both knew there would be hell to pay,
But they both thought “Be that as it may.”
With a mischievous glance
She unbuttoned his pants.
Their impatience would brook no delay!

With her clothing still in disarray
And a smug smile , as much to betray,
As she ran in the gate
She called ‘Sorry I’m late,
Me and Charlie just had our first lay!’