There was a young man of Bombay,

Who fashioned a cunt out of clay;

But the heat of his prick

Turned it into a brick,

And chafed all his foreskin away.



There was a young man of Peru,

Who had nothing whatever to do;

So he took out his carrot

And buggered his parrot,

And sent the result to the Zoo.



There was a young girl of Ostend,

Who her maidenhead tried to defend,

But a Chasseur d'Afrique

Inserted his prick,

And taught that ex-maid how to spend.



There was a young man of Calcutta,

Who tried to write "Cunt" on a shutter.

When he got to C-U,

A pious Hindoo

Knocked him arse over head in the gutter.



There was a young man of Ostend,

Whose wife caught him fucking her friend;

"It's no use, my duck,

Interrupting our fuck,

For I'm damned if I draw till I spend."



There was a young man of Wood Green,

Who tried to fart "God Save the Queen."

When he reached the soprano,

He shot his guano,

And his breeches weren't fit to be seen.



There was a young man of Dundee,

Who one night went out on the spree;

He wound up his clock

With the tip of his cock,

And buggered himself with the key.



There was a young lady of Troy,

Who invented a new kind of joy:

She sugared her thing

Both outside and in,

And then had it sucked by a boy.



There was a young man of Santander,

Who tried hard to bugger a gander;

But the virtuous bird

Plugged his arse with a turd,

And refused to such low tastes to pander.



There was a young lady of Hitchin,

Who was skrotching her cunt in the kitchen;

Her father said "Rose,

It's the crabs, I suppose."

"You're right, pa, the buggers are itching."



There was an old person of Sark,

Who buggered a pig in the dark;

The swine, in surprise,

Murmured "God blast your eyes,

Do you take me for Boulton or Park?"