... maybe not, either. On the other hand ...
She dwelt among the shale and mud
Beside the springs of Dove,
Still searching for the perfect stud
Who'd fit her like a glove.
A wholesome life, no greasy chips
Or burgers - she was manic
That nothing pass between her lips
Unless it was organic.
Her charms were famed throughout the town;
Available and willing,
She never let the fellows down,
And only charged one shilling.
She screwed without a moment's pause,
And did each passing chap -
A maid who rarely won applause,
Though many came to clap.
(The “Lubricity” poems, after William Wordsworth)
Last edited by Brian Allgar; 08-16-2012 at 12:44 PM.
Reason: New stanza 2 added following Basil's suggestion
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