Snowdrops from a Curate’s Garden

PARODIES LONG BEFORE DAWN Sweet cunt, if prick were stronger, Arse clear of turds that wrong her, Then two things might live longer, Two sweeter things than they. J.T. the root of power, And balls, the bloomless bower. J.T. that stands an hour, And balls that droop a day. From entry to emission When passion melts suspicion, The pot is there to pish on, The paper is there for turds, As fart by fart grows colder, And shit on brows or shoulder Slides sideways now, and smoulder The lusts too sweet for words. This one thing once worth poking God gave (alas ! in joking) The cunt that needs no stoking. The prick that always stands Were mate most fit to find her (Were any luck) to grind her, And then slip in behind her While frigging fast with hands. Ah ! one cunt worth the tickling, One stream of spunk worth trickling ! Ah sweet ! one prick worth pickling [99]