A man called Percival Lee
Got up one night for a pee.
When he got to the loo
It was quarter to two,
And when he got back it was three.
Be he victim or vandal or sleaze,
He ignores Pete the Park Ranger’s pleas:
Not to put on a condom,
Pete says, is beyond him
These days what with Dutch Elm Disease.
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.
One cannot when dealing with Toynbee,
Just pay him back in his own coin be
Cause talking such piss
Would come rather amiss,
And so how would a kick in the groin be?
Relativity, the theorists’ creed,
Says mass increases with speed.
My (m)ass grows when I sit it.
Mr. Einstein, get with it;
Equate its deflation, I plead!
When I came back to roger the gnu,
I was scarcely delayed coming through,
And the staff – most polite,
Cried, “please stay overnight”,
It’s a privilege granted to few.
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.
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 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.