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My name is George Gordon, Lord Byron,
And my prick is as hard as cast iron.
Here alone I regret
I'm not with that coquette,
My sister who screwed like a siren.
--- A N Wilkins P8702

If Byron laid his half-sister Augusta,
'Twas but to give the gossip columns lustre,
And should not nowadays, in practice,
From his poetry, distract us--
Get on with reading Manfred, will you, Buster?
--- G0804

Of MacGonigle I have not heard;
As for skill, I won't take your word.
I'll seek out a book
And just take a look;
If he's rotten I'll flip you the bird!
--- Jim Weaver Collection

Shakespeare and Milton...sublime!
And Chaucer, he too in full time...
But at five and a score,
Keats had written more
When stolen from us in his prime.
--- Tutta Gioia

With my dendrites fast slipping away,
And my anapests in disarray,
My rhymes ain't so pure.
This tells me for sure
I ain't Edna St. Vincent Millay.
--- Observer

There's an Irishman, Arthur O'Shaughnessy --
On the chessboard of poets, a pawn is he;
Though a bishop or king
Would be rather his thing
To the fancy of Arthur O'Shaughnessy.
--- Dante G Rossetti

If I could but write like O Nash,
Old scribbles of mine I would trash.
I'd compose brand new stuff
Without fat or fluff,
But with wit, that would sparkle and flash.
--- Marc Davis

A rhymester named J Ogden Nash
Used to write these brief verses for cash.
He was also a punster;
A world renowned funster,
And a writer with loads of panache.
--- Marc Davis

Although he may be out of fashion,
I've long had a consuming passion
For most every ditty,
Both funna and witty
That flowed from the pen Ogden Nashian.
--- Tiddy Ogg

Beware of the poems of Ogden;
Unwary old folks have been fogden.
There's so much balderdash,
It will make your teeth Nash,
And your ears will get mired down and bogden.
--- Albin Chaplin 3024-2732

"Mr. Poe," said the Raven, "I trust
You recall the dark night we discussed
That likeness of Pallas?
I viewed him as callous
And as solace provider, a bust."
--- Loren Fitzhugh P0800

There once was a young writer named Joyce
Whose diction was ribaldly choice,
And all his friends woes
Were deduced from his prose
Which never filled anyone's purse.

(Ezra Pound said this rhymes in parts of New York)
--- Ezra Pound

Robert Browning infrequently misses
The target and earns himself hisses,
But I have to complain
That he's clearly profane
In writing that verse, Papa Pisses.

(Spoonerism - Pippa Passes by Robt Browning)
--- Anon

There was an old poet named Frost
Who stopped by some woods and got lost.
Despite promises, so
He had miles to go
Before sleep, and he'd not even flossed!
--- Anon

The Bard of the North, Robert Service,
Was poking a lady named Jervis.
She murmured, "Oh, Bob,
You do such a nice job,
But those snow shoes you wear, make me nervous."
--- Anon

On the road to Mandalay
Where the soldiers Manda lay.
Let the storm come up like thunder
(As they spread her legs asunder)
'Cause the men demand a lay.
--- Irving Superior P8805

On the road where Manda lay
Stands a witness there who'll say,
"Hit and runner,
Came like thunder,
From behind her," Rudyard K.
--- Irving Superior P8805

Said Sam Coleridge, "This poem was the spawn
Of an opium dream. I was drawn
To write it all down,
But a clodpoll from town
Blundered in and the magic was gone.
--- A N Wilkins P8803

Serious poems bore me;
I feel that they're not written for me.
I once threw a welly
At a picture of Shelley;
I don't think that anyone saw me.
--- Richard Long

I've pondered the writings of Shelly,
Who sat in his heighborhood deli
And pondered his life
While eating his wife
And bagels with kosher grape jelly.
--- Travis Brasell

There was a young poet named Shelly
Who much preferred bottom to belly.
He argued the former
Was tighter and warmer,
Though it does make the shooting stick smelly.
--- G2277

Shelly's death - was it really his wish
To be drowned 'midst Ilalian fish?
I certainly think
I'd dive in the drink,
If my parents had christened me Bysshe.
--- Bill Greenwell

There was a young poet named Swinburne
Who swore: "May my soul and my skin burn!
The prospect appalls
Not a person whose balls
To bugger a Siamese twin burn."
--- G2279

Swinburne--he of the multiple rhyme--
Was a victim of nursery crime.
To make his little pinny stir
His nurse used to administer
Treatment so sweet and sinister

It still made Swinburne burn when in his prime.
--- G0806

The editors cried, "Resubmit!"
Thomas then had a snit fit.
"Re-write my Prufrock?
You can suck on my cock!"
They replied, "Just T.S., Eliot!"
--- Anon

T. S. Elliot is quite at a loss,
When clubwomen bustle across
At literary teas
Crying, "What, if you please,
Did you mean by the Mill on the Floss?"
--- W H Auden

"I'm depressed," said the laureate Ted Hughes;
"Forty years on the throne, where's the muse."
Then inspired, he wrote
Of a three-legged stoat,
Disembowelling dead kangaroos.
--- Bill Wall

"I would doubt", said the Bishop of Balham,
"If Tennyson ever had Hallam.
Such things are best hid.
Let's hope that he did
De mortuis nil nisi malum."

(De mortuis... - Never speak ill of the dead)
--- Terence Rattigan

Said Tennyson, "Yes, Locksley Hall's
A story that always enthralls,
For it comes down to this,
She gave him a kiss.
And then a good kick in the balls."
--- Victor Gray

'Twas a trait of small Thomas Love Peacock's
And his brother to sink both their wee cocks
Into fish, snake, or bird,
But the tail they preferred
Was the one that made Thomas love peacocks.
--- G0805

Young Kilmer said, "Dad, I can't see
Why we call forest 'virgin'." "The key,"
He replied, "to it all,
You ought to recall.
Only God can, you know, make a tree."
--- A N Wilkins P8409

Bryant, nee William Cullen
Picked up one day an old skull 'n
Wrote Thanatopsis;
A dreary synopsis
Of thoughts 'bout the grave, really sullen.
--- TuttaGioia

To get the Last Poems of Yeats,
You need not mug up on dates;
All a reader requires
Is some knowledge of gyres,
And the sort of people he hates.
--- W H Auden P8608

This is file ndm

Aladdin was surely depraved.
I was plucked from my lamp and enslaved.
The despotic young thug
Sought to fly on a rug.
You'd think he'd be better behaved.
--- Donna Lee Dom

Said Jim Smith, a young lad from old Siam,
"These bad poems show I'm no Omar Khayyam.
My poetical work
Makes me look like a jerk.
You can see what a stupid ass I am."
--- Ward Hardman

"A book and a jug and a dame,
And a nice cozy nook for the same;
And I don't give a damn,"
Said Omar Khayyam,
"What you say, it's a great little game."

(Here with a loaf of bread...)
--- E M Robinson

An old poet called Omar cried, "Now
I've found Paradise truly, and how!
I regret what I've said,
Stuff verse, wine, and bread!
I'll have thou and have thou and have thou.
--- J E C

A young writer of verses named Bough,
Ate the Loaf, drained the jug, then yelled, "Thou,
Makest my life a mess,
Singing in the wilderness,
Hush, love, Thou'st spoiled Paradise enow."
--- Anon

Old Omar Kayahm loved to linger
In the wilderness with his sweet singer;
She enjoyed Omar's wine,
Thought his loaf was just fine,
But she liked best his famed "moving finger."
--- Robin K Willoughby P8407

Recently I was taken aback
When my wife offered this neat wisecrack:
I'd asked, "Whom do you see
Most changed our poetry?"
She said, "Doubtlessly, Omar Kayak."
--- Loren C Fitzhugh P9808

"The finger that moves, having writ,
Moves on," said Khayam, "nor your wit
Nor your piety shan't
Divert it one scant
As it pokes out your eye -- you dumb twit!"
--- Arthur Deex P8804

"Fate's sure finger," said Khayyam, "doth spawn
Cogent tales made to reflect upon.
Thoughts today are not gelled
And the words are misspelled.
Do you wonder the finger moves on?"
--- Loren C Fitzhugh P9709

"Loaf of bread, jug of wine, and thee"
I said to my lover passionately!
She spat in my face
And left in such haste,
I barely could speak, but said "Gee!"
--- Javabeane

Next morning, I tried once again,
With the alcohol clouding my brain.
"With this loaf and a jug,
Can I give you a hug?"
She thought I was going insane.
--- Peter W

"I'll be luckier next time," I said,
"By omitting the passionate bread.
With this jug I am trying
To declare love undying."
She walloped me over the head.
--- Peter W

As I daintily wiped off the booze,
I thought "Hell, what is there to lose?"
So I dropped down a notch
And went straight for her crotch,
And got in her, right up to my shoes.
--- John Miller

Some booze with a friend by a tree
Makes you happy and horny, you see.
But don't give me credit,
'Twas Khayyam who said it.
Give a try. It will cure your ennui.
--- Julia Strawn P8707A

"Though your singing, my dear, is divine,"
Omar said, "and these verses are fine,
Though our favorite oasis
Is the best of all places,
You've neglected the bread and the wine."
--- A N Wilkins P8403

Are gentlemen living is Siam
Was astonished to learn as I am
That a guy named Fitzgerald
Wrote the poem we herald
As The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam.
--- Cyber Geezer

In days well before old King Fahd
There lived an Arabian bard,
Who told of the delights
Of a thousand plus nights,
With a pop-tart called Sheherezade.
--- Tiddy Ogg

But this so-called bard, who was gaga,
And does not know Baghdad from West Gaza,
Thinks Sheherezade
Is a name far too hard
To spell, so I'll call the bitch Zaza.
--- Tiddy Ogg

Well this is the tale that he told,
Of a tale-telling female of old.
But who, unlike me,
Who tells you for free,
From scribbling, some blokes make much gold.
--- Tiddy Ogg

Most famous of whom, Richard Burton,
(Not Liz Taylor's cuckold, that dirt on
Whom's easily found.)
This bloke, Eastward bound,
On Arab scrawl, lifted the curtain.
--- Tiddy Ogg

Now that verse was much worser than most,
Says I who uncommonly boast.
Get on with the tale,
Or you'll surely fail
To complete it, ere Erm wants warm toast.
--- Tiddy Ogg

There once was a powerful sheikh,
Who, each night, a virgin would take,
And have his foul way
Till dawn the next day,
Then kill them as daylight would break.
--- Tiddy Ogg

He did it without much compunction;
But face it, if you wanted conjunction
With cunt that's brand new,
Then you got to screw
Them thus, though folks say you dysfunction.
--- Tiddy Ogg

Now Zaza, to save her kid sister,
Who's next on his list, says: "Hey mister,
I see you're well hung,
And I'm good with my tongue.
How 'bout it?" and he can't resist her.
--- Tiddy Ogg

"Hang on, 'fore you get at my twat,
I've something to say, not a lot.
I'll tell you the tale
Of Sinbad the Sail-
Or, 'cause plenty of time we still got.
--- Tiddy Ogg

And though the old fool wants to bang her,
To tup her, to screw her, to wang her,
He sits there, enthralled,
Till breakfast is called,
When she stops at a crucial cliff-hanger.
--- Tiddy Ogg

So each night he plays with his cock;
She is not getting out of her frock;
No, our cunning Zaza
Relates Ali Baba,
And mythical birds like the roc.
--- Tiddy Ogg

This goes on for nearly three years,
(A thousand and one nights, my dears.)
He then says he'll bed her
And not then behead her,
And happily they live for years.
--- Tiddy Ogg

The wisdom of old Persion mystics,
I've studied to find the logistics,
To solve here the matter
Of feminine chatter,
And overcome cunning linguistics
--- Tiddy Ogg

If you, man, are in the same boat,
Her yakking is getting your goat,
The answer, of course,
Is strike at the source:
She'll not talk with dork in her throat.
--- Tiddy Ogg

Your tale of the harem with stores enough
Of one-night-stand ladies, sheiks whores enough,
Is as charmingly told
As that opus of old,
Composed by team Rimsky and Korsekov.
--- Scott C

Two Persians, Omar and Khayyam,
Thought they were being subliam.
But they wrote tommyrot
In that damn Ruba'iyat,
'Bout how depressingly short our life ti'am.
--- Tutta Gioia

The grit folk an' the puir do't,
The blythe folk an' the sour do't,
The black, the white,
Rude and polite,
Both autocrat an' boor do't.
--- Robert Burns

For they a' do't, they a' do't,
The beggars an' the braw do't,
Folk that ance were,
An' folk that are--
And folk that come will a' do't.
--- Robert Burns


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