(Mmm ... perhaps old Henry VIII is due for another outing.)

‘Tis time, methinks, to speak of manly things
And of those pleasures copulation brings.
I therefore bid thee, harken to my words:
I shall not weary thee with bees and birds
But rather teach thee how thou may’st contrive
To have thy way with maids - in short, to swive.
The day thou feel’st thy manhood doth awaken,
Go to’t; a maidenhead is swiftly taken,
And many yearn to taste thy rampant yard.
So imitate the minstrel or the bard
By counting all th’innumerable ways
Whereby thine art shall lead to pleasing lays.
But to begin with, take a lady who
Shall seem demure, yet knows a thing or two.
In short, seek thou a wench who’s skilled in bed,
Especially one who’s good at "giving head".

Love it, Brian. Wins my vote.

Good Lord! Brian, let's hope the bra-burning feminist icon that is Germaine Greer doesn't frequent these pages.

Joking aside, I enjoyed your archaic touches and your heroic couplets, both.


Go well.

Thank you, John and Royston.

Royston, I don't know whether it comes across clearly enough, but the last line is a reference to Anne Boleyn, who proved very good at giving head - her own.

Brian,
That's a good question. I am wondering if "Incumbent United State Congressman" would be applicable.

"I don't know whether it comes across clearly enough, but the last line is a reference to Anne Boleyn, who proved very good at giving head - her own."

I wasn't smart enough to pick that up on first reading, Brian, I have to admit, but yes, now that you mention it...

Excellent er... entry, Brian ;)

Jayne

Chamberlain and the Chambermaids


Nay, Not Neville, he hath no heart to stand
But Wilt the Stilt whose jump and hook went down
On ten thousand maidens 'fore he left town,
Had lots of heart to shag his peckered band.
He went around the world not once or twice
Twirling his balls on his fingers at court.
He never not ever, his ship in port,
Docked on dry land, his masthead packed in ice.

He slept in a bed as big as a pond,
And taught sex ed to the daughters of men.
Though he never charged for the intercourse,
His deposits paid dividends beyond
The tests for paternity, and his grin
At the wake, when his kids came out in force.

Humbert Humbert and the Facts

The facts of life, my chickabiddies! The birds, my own sweet birds of youth a-flutter, and the bees, my hot honeybunches, bristling, whistling, rustling, hustling all abuzz! Meaning sex, my hearties, sex and concupiscence, bold tumescence, deliquescence detumescence, ape and essence, adolescence and you, my little eager beavers, gay deceivers, true believers trembling and dissembling on the cusp. Turn to your neighbour, the nymphet, the swainling beside you, touch hands, touch hearts, be public with those private parts, for facts are dry as dust when that whereof we speak is essentially aqueous, wet Bobs and knobs, wet Babs and squabs, slipping and a-sliding you put your whole self in, you take your whole self out, how potent this cheap music truly is. Hokey-cokey, okey-dokey, everybody's doing it, spermatazoa, ova, making out, making over, worm seeks egg, wham-bam and thank you, mam! Pull up your pants; next up is math.

Terrific, John! Stings like a butterfly trying to escape a lepidopterist, floats like someone making a bee-line for the nearest nymphet.

If that doesn't win, I'll eat the next little girl I encounter.

Why thank you, Brian. I wonder if I have a late career writing pornography.