Songs Of Toil And Triumph

Prick is its friend, its first cousin, I ween, Tho' prick I confess is a rare go-between; Prick to a woman much joy can impart, And prick is a thing that she loves in her heart! Gee up, &c. Then here's to the female who yields to a man, And here's to the man who'll fuck when he can, For fucking creates all our joy on earth, And from fucking you know, we all date our birth. Gee up, Roger, Wag up, Roger, Roger's a thing that all women admire. EPITAPH. Here lies the amorous Fanny Hicks, The scabbard of ten thousand pricks, And if you wish to do her honour, Pull out your cock, and piss upon her. THE TRIUMPH OF SCIENCE OVER PHYSIC. Home they brought the warrior, fed To repletion more than just; And the servants, chuckling, said, "He must shit or he will bust." Then they gave him castor oil, Pills and drugs of many a sort; Yet despite their loving toil, He would not be taken short. Stole a maiden to the spot, And emetics, laughing, dared; Yet in vain she held the pot, For he only belched and glared. Came a nurse of ninety years, An enema huge she bore; Shoved it up amidst their jeers, And he shat for evermore. SONG ...»