HOME THOUGHTS, FROM ABROAD 
 
 
O to be in Clara, 
Now her monthly’s there ! 
And whoever spends in Clara, 
Finds some morning unaware 
That the tip of his prick in its brushwood nest 
Is red and inflamed and — you guess the rest ! 
At least he is sorry he sped the plough 
In Clara — now. 
 
And after chordee, when gleet follows, 
And zinc he injects and santal swallows ! 
Hark, where his twisted love-plant pees in jerks 
The mucus-laden urine of the lover, 
Wakes the gross hufflahs, scares the scampering 
quirks ! 
That’s the small stricture, makes you piss twice 
over 
Lest you mistake for an unequalled scorcher 
The first fine careless torture ! 
Yet.  Though his outlook’s rough, his whore is due. 
All will be gay when sucking wakes anew 
The bollocks, every lousy bitch’s dower. 
Far creamier than this gaudy dildo-shower ! 
 
 
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