Snowdrops from a Curate’s Garden

[141] THE POET ABROAD At Grindelwald I have no luck. I want your pussy-cat to suck, Your sniffy bottom-hole to fuck, My darling ! Remembrance is so sad for me ! I yearn for your K.U.N.T. That in my mouth was wont to pee, My darling ! All on my balls you used to piss ; Your farts would smoke, your turds would hiss ; Then you would take my cock to kiss, My darling ! I used to hang on every word Your dainty little mouth averred, And make milk puddings with a turd, My darling ! I shat of yore between your bubs. Those fat amusing butter-tubs : Love’s butterflies can grow from grubs, My darling ! Aye ! ’Tis a keen remorseful knife To think of you, my fucksome wife, In this my solitary life. My darling !