In a pub, a young lassie named Grace
Sat and drank at a furious pace.
Just
before closing time
On
her stool she did climb
Shouting, “I can lick any man in the place.
There once was a woman named Francis –
That’s Frances F. Francis from Kansas.
“Fran-Fran”
is not a name
That
brings you much fame
Or invites to extravaganzas.
There once was a fellow named Kyle
Who campaigned against the use of kale.
With
his brothers-in-arms
He
boycotted the farms
‘Cause the stuff made his poop black as
kole.
There once was a fellow named Paul;
A most devout hater of fall.
He
truly believes
That
the falling of leaves
Gives his front yard an unearthly pall.
Our pal, Will Congreve said it best,
“Music can soothe the savage breast.”
For
when the breast is tamed,
The
passion is enflamed,
And she’ll offer access to the rest.
There once was a fellow named Petty
Who said that it seemed such a pity
That
folks of all hue
Who
only watched TV news
Can be molded like just so much putty.
There once was a widow named Dusty.
At lovemaking, she was a bit rusty.
But
she said with a wink,
“Don’t
you even think
That I am not incredibly lusty.”
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