That snobbish surrealist, Garsall,
Once did himself up in a parcel;
He addressed it ‘Lord Garsall,
The Keep, Garsall Castle’
And mailed it first-class up his arsehole.
There was a young fellow called Shit,
A name he disliked quite a bit,
So he changed it to Shite,
A step in the right
Direction, one has to admit.
A usage that’s seldom got right
Is when to say shit and when shite,
And many a chap,
Will fall back on crap,
Which is vulgar, evasive, and trite.
There once was a Marxist named Lenin,
Who did two or three million men in,
That's a lot to have done in,
But where he did one in,
That old bastard Stalin did ten in.
Seven Ages: first puking and mewling
Then very pissed-off with your schooling,
Then fucks and then fights,
Next judging chaps’ rights,
Then sitting in slippers: then drooling.
There was plenty of good-natured chaff,
When I popped in to fuck the giraffe,
And the PRZS,
Could hardly suppress,
A dry professorial laugh.