More Filth. Not Sorry

Ooops!

I done it once more

Since I have nothing better to do, I thought I’d indulge myself and share yet more filth with you.

I really wish I had a better Idea of what to do with this stuff. But better here where they can be seen than hidden away until after my death when they are found by someone going through my stuff. “Oh look!” they’ll say, “he wrote poems too. But by god they are awful. Better to delete them.”

So up yours imaginary person form the future. I have pre-empted your desecration.

Anyway, here are four more filthy limericks. I felt that small groups is best for this sort of thing so as not to overwhelm. Besides which, I haven’t written any for ages and didn’t really have anything new.

There once was a fella from Ryegate
Who left his girlfriend feeling irate
When one night, on a whim,
He blew up her quim
To find out if she’d come or just inflate

Uku

A vicar’s wife, all meek and mild
Would never do anything wild
But her eyes opened wide
On a bumpy bike ride
And she smiled and she smiled and she smiled

Uku

There once was a fella from Harrow
Whose penis looked just like a marrow
It’s not that I mean
It was big, thick and green
But he did wheel it round in a barrow

Uku

A cobbler who lived in Toulouse
Spent all of his money on booze
The drunken old shite
Would get pissed every night
And vomit in everyone’s shoes

Uku

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