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Previously on "Friday poetry corner"

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  • suityou01
    replied
    Originally posted by wobbegong View Post
    Oscar, is that you?

    Leave a comment:


  • wobbegong
    replied
    Originally posted by suityou01 View Post
    There was a young man from Aberystwyth,
    Who played around with MFs mistress,
    Then he had a go on his wife,
    And ran for his life,
    After wiping his knob on their aspidistras.

    Oscar, is that you?

    Leave a comment:


  • suityou01
    replied
    Originally posted by TestMangler View Post
    Suity....that would be great, if aspidistras and mistress rhymed with Aberystwyth
    Well they do in our house

    Leave a comment:


  • TestMangler
    replied
    Originally posted by suityou01 View Post
    There was a young man from Aberystwyth,
    Who played around with MFs mistress,
    Then he had a go on his wife,
    And ran for his life,
    After wiping his knob on their aspidistras.

    Suity....that would be great, if aspidistras and mistress rhymed with Aberystwyth

    Leave a comment:


  • suityou01
    replied
    Originally posted by TestMangler View Post
    There was a young man from Aberystwyth.......

    Anyone care to finish that one off ?
    There was a young man from Aberystwyth,
    Who played around with MFs mistress,
    Then he had a go on his wife,
    And ran for his life,
    After wiping his knob on their aspidistras.

    Leave a comment:


  • TestMangler
    replied
    There was a young man from Aberystwyth.......

    Anyone care to finish that one off ?


    Who took out a girl to play whist with.
    When she trumped his last trick,
    He whipped out his dick,
    And played hell with the hole that she pissed with.
    Last edited by TestMangler; 21 October 2011, 10:43.

    Leave a comment:


  • bless 'em all
    replied
    There was a young girl called Lucy ....

    Leave a comment:


  • wobbegong
    started a topic Friday poetry corner

    Friday poetry corner

    MADONNA MIA

    by: Oscar Wilde

    LILY-GIRL, not made for this world's pain,
    With brown, soft hair close braided by her ears,
    And longing eyes half veiled by slumberous tears
    Like bluest water seen through mists of rain:
    Pale cheeks whereon no love hath left its stain,
    Red underlip drawn in for fear of love,
    And white throat, whiter than the silvered dove,
    Through whose wan marble creeps one purple vein.
    Yet, though my lips shall praise her without cease,
    Even to kiss her feet I am not bold,
    Being o'ershadowed by the wings of awe,
    Like Dante, when he stood with Beatrice
    Beneath the flaming Lion's breast, and saw
    The seventh Crystal, and the Stair of Gold.

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