[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 !