[bear_music]

"It's a piece-able kingdom, indeed,
when the lion and lamb interbreed.
I think God's intention
was lack of contention,
not the breaking of rules He'd decreed."

My friend, if you take this in context,
and don't manufacture a subtext,
you'll find it a witty
attempt at a ditty
exploring some biblical subjects.

(music)

[Nigel Holt]

<u>Squirrels</u>

There's nothing much tastier than squirrels,
they're something I could chew on all night,
those tasty but furry exteriors,
and hazlenuts in every bite.

I eat them for breakfasts and luncheons,
I take a couple of handfuls to work,
they're delicious with mayo or ketchup,
and the squeaking's a fabulous perk.

They get more attention than corn-snacks
- I'm expecting some guests just next week -
some people from Small Mammal Helpline
who'll give me my desserts, magnifique!

[ginger]

Funny thing about the squirrel's fate
over here in these United States,
Some will raise them up as pets--it's true
while others serve them up in road kill stew.

[Carol Taylor]

Off Road

When I was a kid we ate squirrel with dumplings,
and it was delicious, first bite to the last.
As poor as we were, we could always eat something;
we raised our own garden in good old days past.
We had jack rabbit, venison, duck, and wild turkey,
shot with a 12 gauge, but road kill? Not hardly.
It wasn't our pride--we just didn't get lucky.
Our Model T never could travel that fast.

Carol Taylor

[nyctom]

A Comment on the Plethora of Bestiality Poems
Inhabiting This Thread


If Noah and his animals
all screwed as much as you've implied,
the Ark they sailed would've filled and sank
long before the oceans dried.

[ginger]

I can't believe what I'm about to say,
but Tom, the perk of inter-species play:
No pregancies to get in Cupid's way!

(I think I'm gonna need three showers today.)

[Nigel Holt]

As Ginger likes her verses meaty,
here's three for which I beg entreaty
that if you seek bovine release
don't make it known to the police.

No child, no sprog, no progeny
for love of passion vetinary.


The Scots like the freedom that kilts bring
especially when sheep have a kip,
for ovines have very good hearing
and will run at the rip of a zip.


<u>My Love Doth Ku</u>


My love and I, we used to meet
in moonlit fields of hoary beet,
and there I swore in frosted breath
to never part until my death,
and so be lovers unto the dawn
when I would trudge away forlorn.

Six nights to love and one for rest,
my head upon her milky breast,
I talked of love that never died
and soft she listened, but never cried.
Her huge brown eyes, they stared to mine
and gentle lips and ears divine

ne'er eased my pangs of violent love.
Then, as I gave a throaty shove,
there came a figure from on high
- it was her mother - O let me die!
Imagine my great and awful woe,
In flagrante delicto,

stuck in a field of hoary beet
with soggy trousers at my feet.
My shame was much too much to bear
and dare her mother's icy stare,
So looking down, I squeaked, "D...do...?",
But all she did was bellow "Mooo!"



[This message has been edited by Nigel Holt (edited January 19, 2002).]

[Lilith]

What a delight, to come back to Erato
and read through a thread such as this!
My apologies for the long absence -- although
it may prove longer still:
my computer's been ill.
I've had hours of hold-music bliss
with the tech-support folks, who can't tell what's amiss.

Little wonder I've missed you!
Where else can one read through
a series in rhyme
(some straight up, some askew)
both divine and bovine
and taboo?

Fellow 'Spherians, I shall return
when my system will no longer spurn
my attempts to link up to the 'Net.
Wish me luck. I may kill someone yet,
if the techies don't show more concern!!!

[Clive]

My Internet connection went awry.
I rang the techie hotline, got some kid
who sounded like he'd been up half the night
with several ounces of Jamaica's best.

He ran me through configurations I
had checked and double-checked. But still, I did
it all again. He said "They seem all right"
and didn't have a lot else to suggest.

The problem, it transpired, wasn't mine
but theirs. Their servers balked at the amount
of folk online. I'd paid out 50 pence
a minute just for talking to this dope.

When ISPs say everything is fine
their end, it's time to cancel your account.
For "techie" read "a prat, no common sense".
For "tech support" read "money for old rope".

[Pua Sandabar]

"Old rope" you say?
You said it twice.
You know what folks are thinkin'?

They've all surmised
you're bondage-prone
and surely must be drinkin'!