Snowdrops from a Curate’s Garden

Micturating Mary The well-bred wife of a high-church parson Had a daughter fair and merry Who kept twelve hours a day her arse on The fine old family jerry. She poured such a stream of waters vital From a cunt so slimy and hairy That the Bishop of London gave her the title Of Micturating Mary. One day they were praying in church for rain When the heavens above with a roar rent : Came sizzle and splash on the window pane, And the road swirled down with the torrent. Cried the vicar : “ How quickly it’s come to pass ! Let’s thank the Lord for his blessing ! ” But his wife whispered “ Hush ! You silly old ass ! It’s only our Mary — confessing ! ” Her father’s curate entered her room With the fixed intention of fucking her ; But she went Pss-boom-whz-brr-pss-boom In spite of the corks she had stuck in her. With her virgin cunt he lustily grapples, For she saucily, randily beckoned ; But she had to let go, and his rotten apples Were washed away in a second. She angrily wired for Sir Walter Blunt “ Come ; bring down your scalpel and skewer, And give me cunt that is cunt For a cunt that is only a sewer ! ” [139]