The boss cocky, at whose job he angled,
Whose daughter’s hand, temptingly dangled,
He’d said could be his,
Led him on, but gee whizz!
What a drongo, however much spangled!
Tag: Australian limerick
Bad Mothers’ Club
Each third Friday, the Bad Mothers Club
Meets for lunch at a nice discreet pub;
They drink, tell filthy jokes
And discuss sex and blokes,
While the nanny looks after the bub.
Love-birds
On her porch, they would kiss and canoodle,
She’d fondle his kit and caboodle!
In all kinds of weathers
He’d ruffle her feathers;
She’d coo, while she played yankee-doodle!
Precocious
He drawled “Mate! Though a bloke shouldn’t gloat,
She does ev’rything! Even deep throat!
Tits! God! Wait till you see!
And she reckons she’ll be
Old enough, come next August, to vote!”