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Verbwhores Poem 2009

Started by Jemble Fred, January 02, 2009, 09:33:42 PM

Previous topic - Next topic

Jemble Fred

Fuck rules.

The Verbwhores Poem 2009.

I

JANUS WAS A GRASS

Rum Ti Tum, I've pulled out my thumb,
And nobody wants to sniff it
Root-Ti-Toot, I've sat on my fruit,

alan nagsworth

And it's blossomed up into a triffid,



Spoiler alert
Sorry, I'm not feeling too creative as I'm pretty much ready for bed right now but I felt like this thread could use some lovin' so one line's better than a kick in the dick.
[close]

Ginyard

Now this is a poem that's set in the past
when nothing was born, not even James Last
no it isn't, I'm lying, by God I'm a shit
Its all about last night when I was sucking some tit

Jemble Fred

Well, not so much sucking, as kicking his neck,
And lamping that tit into a total wreck,
He cried 'I'm the Earl of Wessex, please, please stop!'

the midnight watch baboon

Just help me let this beat, mmmm..........droppppppppp?
For this Earl was also a Beastie
With a penal infection all yeasty
The only thing to assuage the pain
Was to let beats drop again, and again

Cambrian Times

#5
He played Aphex, he played Slim,
He even played Robert Miles,
It might have assuaged his yeast infection,
But it did bugger all for his piles.

Sexton Brackets Drugbust

Ah, haemorrhoids, his achilles heel
A curse that wouldn't leave him
Instead of sit, he had to kneel

Ginyard

and rub his ring with an orange peel
the thought of it made him quite ill
until he met young Stephen


Sexton Brackets Drugbust

Stephen was a Chimney sweep
Who'd harvest chimney nuts
Then pickle them in antifreeze
And auction them at Sutherby's
As poultice for frail Ostrich knees
Or as garnish for cold cuts

At once, young Stephen doffed his cap



Jemble Fred

And threw it on the fire.
He stood upon a horse and trap,
"BRUCE FORSYTH LIVES!" He bawled, and crap!
Brucey himself began to tap,
Upon the

Ginyard


Sexton Brackets Drugbust

Tapdancing by an open flame
Is a recipe for disaster
And before he could say "Good game, good game"

Jemble Fred

To Terry Wogan's lasting shame,
One belch and Bruce was ash, so blame,
The TOG-loving broadcaster.

I'm-a-washing carrots, washing 'em good,
Scrub scrub scub them carrots.
D'you like carrots? No, nor do I.
Wash wash wash.

Cambrian Times

Then slice and dice them
And stick them with some tatties
In a vegetable pie.

I like salmon, I like sardines,,
I'm even partial to trout,
I'll even stoop to anchovies,
But

Ginyard

they make my tits pop out

I showed my last dish to a Frenchman,
He thought the whole thing was too sour,
I thought he was rude, he made me see red,
so I fed him the entrails of wombats instead,
I asked him what he did by trade and he said:
'moi? JE BAMLEM JACQUES BAUER'

Then he picked up a

Jemble Fred

really quite scary disease from a girl on the corner named Mo,
He knew she was cheap but the itch that he reaped was, he admit to admit, quite a blow.
When telling my mother this story, however, I try to be subtle in parts,
Like I leave out the bit about the bowl of shit and

the midnight watch baboon

the foul use of Exchange and Marts.

Who'd've thought that such dull newspapers,
Could be such bizarre sexual aids;
But enough of these strange front page capers,
Let's twat some gay manatees with spades

Jemble Fred

Ever a Goodie, I join in the fun,
But wearing a Nick Hancock mask,

Sexton Brackets Drugbust

Made me instinctively reach for my gun
Twas the implement best for the task

Manatee brains soon coated the room
'But where did they come from?' I laughed

Cambrian Times

Why the manatee,
Do come from the sea,
My word you're incredible daft!

Said the man in black
With the oversized hat
And a devilish twinkle-eyed grin

Ginyard

'Oh no, its George Melly' we all cried together,
'don't let that sad old fucker in'

Phil_A

Hammered he thrice upon the door,
Thrice again, and then once more,
And then did the wretched Mellything roar
And from it's vast and gaping maw
Issued a terrific caw.
It was a sight that all who saw
agreed was really aw-
ful.
And following this all their ears became sore
Which also rhymes with bore,
Law,
For,
War,
Snore,
More,
Drawer,
And also floor.

Jemble Fred

Poor, poor Paulie Corr,
He knows what he was naked for.

There's a golden hush across Shepherds Bush,
And a stampede to get in at Zavvi's,
There's a

Ginyard

right load of shite
that's on sale tonight
like Spandeau ballet
they should give it away
if you buy their cds you're not savvy

Prince Harry

Jemble Fred

the ginger gave battle in slacks,
And led all his troops unto death,

Ginyard

Shouting 'wogs' to his men, he sent in the blacks
to watch them all die by machete and axe
and those that survived? well, he gave them all smacks
then wiped them all out with his breath

Big cook, little cock


Ginyard

EAT YOUR SOCKS!!!

I wander lonely as a clod

Cambrian Times

Of Earth on a fellwalker's boot,
When he got lost on the Yorkshire moors
He hadn't a map for this root.

No Kendal Mint cake, No flask of brew
He didn't even pack a kagool

Sexton Brackets Drugbust

He had to survive by eating a shoe
In a broth that was made from his stool

The moral of this tale is easy to see
Should ever you go for a hike