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1
The Belges who
hailed from Big Blarnee
Were known
for their Chili Con Carnie.
It caused many lasses
And lads to
pass gasses
That blew
them from there to Kilarney.
2
Let's raise a toast
to
Miss Josephine Gabbler,
An
adventurous sexual dabbler.
As our family's head
She had a
huge bed
Where daring
young rousers would rabble ’er.
3
Most of the
famous Belge bairn
Were laid
by the church in a cairn.
But
more than a few
Were
laid in the pews--
Those Belges
were naught if not darin'.
4
In town was a
clown, Big Enabler,
Who made us believe we were abler
Than we
actually were
By plying
liqueur
And substances far more unstabler.
5
Our Governor, General Bib,
Made jokes
that were sexually glib.
We humored his humor
And dressed him in bloomers.
How's that
for a leg-pulling rib?
6
Our impotent
Judge, Ben A. Gerbil,
Tried
unguents, both store-bought and herbal.
Now here’s a
surprise:
He came to a
rise
When his
spouse’s abuses were verbal.
7
Our Sheriff
was Gabriel Ben.
His jailhouse
was built like The Pen;
His deputy,
Sunny,
A centerfold
Bunny;
His cell, an
iniquitous den.
8
The guard in
our jail, Barbie Glen,
Drained the ink from the Governor’s pen.
For a con
without pardon
Is likely to
harden
And hard was
how Glen liked her men.
9
Our man on
the force, Ernie Glabb,
Preferred to
cop women with flab.
When asked
for the reason,
He said,
“When I’m squeezin’
I like to
have plenty to grab.”
10
Our corpulent
nun, Erin Gabble,
Beat Ernie
quite often… at Scrabble.
Then she’d
pray by the brook
Where he took
her to fook
And drown out
her Biblical babble.
11
Ben Gabriel
stood as our preacher
But he
harbored a devilish feature.
Like a
creature possessed,
He was more
than obsessed
With nailing
our Sunday school teacher.
12
When she told
him he never would bang her
He succumbed
to a weird Bible Anger,
Where if you
wed out of kind
Or screwed
from behind
He would slam
the Good Book on your wanger.
13
Outside town
there’s an old Bible Range—
A Stonehenge
where Zealots exchange
Their bodily
fluids
Like
misguided Druids--
The fruit of
their loins is most strange.
14
A shriveled
old Wiccan, Lee Barbing,
Was evicted
by prudes as a harbing-
er of doom,
but ka-boom!
They gave
back her room
When she
publicly started disgarbing.
15
A god fearing
Jew, Rabbi Gleen,
Held services
gentiles found keen.
He read from
the Torah
Then lit a
Menorah
And shined it
where light’s never been.
16
Our
Proctologist, Doctor Blaine Berg,
Was expert in
sexual erg-
Onomics, you
see,
But his
wee-wee was wee.
How’s that
for a big fat kick in the head?
17
Our Coroner
was
Miss Ilene Grabb.
She preferred
to have sex on a slab.
For a stiff
with a stiff
Made love in
a jiff
And was
rather unlikely to blab.
18
The schoolmarm in town,
Gabbie Lern,
Made pupils
that failed take their turn
At cutting
out stencils
And
sharpening pencils
And acts that
were cause for concern.
19
A student in
town, Blair G. Been,
Looked twenty
but really was ten.
She went to
the College
Of Hard Knox
for knowledge
Both
book-learned and carnal of men.
20
A self-fashioned Princess,
Brin Beagle,
Stood proud
on her yacht, acting regal.
Oh so royal
and brave
To the
shoreline she’d wave—
Until she got
soiled by a Seag’ll.
21
Our town’s
only postman, Ben Ailberg,
Had objects
of love in his mailberg
Which he
stuffed in the boxes
Of comely
young foxes—
Well, he did,
but just now, he’s a jailberg.
22
Our goldsmith in town, Arbee Bling,
Had gemstones
that made the belles sing.
They’d go to
his store
And make like
a whore
In hopes that
he’d give them a ring.
25
The village’s
barber, Abe Berling,
Was a wiz at
mustachio twirling.
His pole had
a stripe
And so did
the pipe
Outside of
his shop. See it whirling?
26
Our man at
the switchboard, Neil Gabber,
Connected the
perverts who’d blabber
On the phone
about sex
(Those phony
old wrecks)
While Gabber
got off on their jabber.
27
Our honey-man
was Mister Bee Blaring.
He had many
housewives by swearing
Their pipes
would not stink
If they would
straddle the sink
While he
sumped out their pumps by thrust bearing.
28
Near town
lived a squaw, Angel Bribe.
She wanted
her own little tribe.
But
her brave hearted buck
Was
too drunk to f***.
An Injun
should never imbibe.
29
There was no
one in town any skinnier
Than our attorney
at law, Ebb G. Linear.
From his foot to his bean
To
the thing in between,
Linear
couldn't be thinnier.
30
Our Barkeep was
Arnie B. Bleg.
He inserted
his dick in a keg.
It
filled up his crotch.
He
tapped it. Kersplotch!
He drowned in
the beer laden smeg… ma.
31
A dancer at clubs,
Bebe Raling,
Bestraddled
her pole. Without failing
The men
matched her rhythm
Until jet
streams of jizzum
To the
flailing Miss Raling went sailing.
32
A gymnastical
gal was Brie Bangle,
If somewhat
obtuse in the angle.
After too
many splits
The place
where she sits
Got tied in a
terrible tangle.
33
Brie’s Doctor was old
Ebbie Gnarl.
He pondered
her snatch with a snarl.
His tongue
licked his lips
Then the lips
by her hips
And believe me
she gave him no quar’l.
34
Our peddler of fish,
Bela Bering,
Took her
sister on voyages daring.
They’d hunt
like a shark
On the lake
after dark
For fisherman
they would be sharing.
35
Her lover and
twin, Elba Bering,
Like the
shrimp that they caught, preferred pairing
For life and
she prayed
For a fisher
who stayed,
But her
creel, so they say, stank of herring.
36
The slut
about town was Babe Linger.
She fancied
herself quite a singer.
She belted
duets
And people
and pets.
Her hum was
more fun than her dinger.
(Whatever
that means)
37
Babe’s
bastard was also Babe Linger.
One night,
Baby threaded his Singer
And stitched
up his crotch
Leaving only
a notch
For his
hand-fasted spouse, Lady Finger.
38
A shop-keep in town,
Gabe Berlin,
Enticed the
young Babe to within.
He gave him
some S’mores
And bolted
the doors
And swore
they were just playing gin.
39
A towering
man, Babel Reign,
Was
considered, by ladies, a bane.
‘Til he built them a pedestal
And
gave them all hedestal,
Since then,
they refrain from disdain.
40
The village
boutique, Be-Line Garb,
Made panties
from hemp and rhu-barb.
Their Jacques
Straps du Pot
Were cool and
yet hot
When smoked
through a bhang with a carb.
41
A Gypsy man,
Ben Ali Gerb,
Had a
magical, mystical herb.
One taste of
his hooch
And you
humped like a pooch.
Twas a bitch
of a habit to curb.
42
Our florist
was Lady Lin Berbage.
She was proud
of her grown-at-home herbage.
But a puff of
her weed
Would make
one concede
Miss
Berbage’s herbage was gerbage.
43
An itinerant
bum, Abel Binger
Had never
once lifted a finger.
Until the
fine day
A gal came
his way
That taught
him to swing like a swinger.
44
His masochist cuz,
Bela Binger,
Will pay you
in cash to infring’r.
A pound for a
pound
If you bang
her around--
A crown and a
half if you singe her.
45
A fun loving
gal, Gina Berbel,
Thought
nothing of boffing a gerbil.
She could
stuff in her hole
A weasel or
mole.
Her crotch
was amazingly durble.
46
A salve made
in town, Gerbil Bane,
Was
prescribed for relief from the pain
You get from
the mole
That enters
your hole
And works its
way up to your brain.
47
They say that the tits on
Nel Gabbier,
Had grown to
be even more flabbier
Than the tits
of a cow;
And I’ll tell
you right now,
That her
crotch could not get any crabbier.
48
A problem in
town, Nibble Rage,
Occurs when a
chump must assuage
His passion
for sex
By biting the
necks
Of whores he
can’t schtup on his wage.
49
An immigrant
whore, Bali Bergen,
Was Islander
and Luxembourgen.
She
garnished some praise
For
Bali Hai leis
And laurels
for Franco-Belge fergen.
50
In a game
that we called Johnny Rebbing,
Our Civil War
buff, old Earl Ebbing
Entrapped a
damn Yankee
And made
hanky panky—
He did it
with cunning and webbing.
51
Our official
town pastime, Beer Baling,
Was a cross
between curling and sailing.
We drained
all the kegs
Of foam, beer
and dregs,
Then rolled
in the hay uncurtailing.
52
Another town
sport, Barbing Eel,
Kept
gentlefolk on an odd keel.
A girl kissed
some fishes
While making
three wishes.
The boy with
his rod made them reel.
53
Our
quarterback, crazy Bear Bingle,
Once went to
a Cheerleader Mingle.
He dangled
his dingle
At girls that
were single
While belting
the words to this jingle—
Drink home bottled brew,
Ebbin Lager.
The malt you
can use for defogger.
The world’s
as it should be,
Like after a
good pee;
Turns ugly to
good,
And putty to
wood.
Drink home
bottled brew, Ebbin Lager.
Drink home
bottled brew, Ebbin Lager.
The clogger,
the frogger, the jogger,
The guy with
the lumber,
The gal with
your number,
The lawyer,
the plumber,
The vixen
called Hummer,
Drink home
bottled brew, Ebbin Lager.
54
There once
was an elf, Bera Bingle, With lovers, both married and single. She laid one and all From the tall to the small And was ho number three for Kris Kringle. 55 The sister of Bera, Reba Bingle Was expert at making boys tingle. She would giggle and flirt As they felt up her skirt Where pleasure and danger commingle. 56 To town came a Briton, Glen Barbie, Who diddled his jock, but then far be It for me to make judgments You see my begrudgement’s That my jock kept losing the Darby. 57 Lord Barbie’s new jock, Bégin Blare, Rode nude on a diapered mare. He knew that a canter Would surely de-pant her, Thus Bégin could ride her back, bare. 58 Our prize-winning stud, Belgian Reb, Had mounted our nag, Dirty Deb. He nuzzled her neck. She bit him, by heck. So, we auctioned her off on the web. 59 Our pole-vaulting star, Bernie Blag, Had vaulted his brother in drag Then turned on his sister Bedecked like a mister Who ran up his pole like a flag. 60 A boxer we dubbed Ragin’ Bleeb. Turned out to be worse than a dweeb. The man was so weak And dickless and meek, He was beat in the ring by a plebe. 61 In our Zoo, was a huge Baleen Brig, Where whales were compelled to do trig. To prove they had smarts They did Morse code in farts, But said they would much rather frig. 62 The guide at our Zoo, Beri Bengal, Told tales of the Afrikaan Jengal Where she went on the loose Like the silliest goose And had gaggles of ganders to wrengal. 63 Our columnist, Miss Gibber Lane, Spread gossip like so much wild grain. Now she’s told what you do Alone with your shoe, You had better go home and explain. 64 Our egg farming man, e. e. rabbling, Was known for poetical dabbling. He would choke out bad verse But his chicken fared worse— For his verse at its worst went on gabbling. 65 A farmer near town, Beaner Glib, Heard faeries speak thus at his crib, We enchanted your penis With Eroticum Beanus. You plant them, they’ll tickle her rib. 66 A countrified yokel, Gail Berben, Found Blarnee men passin’ disturbin’. Darn fellows would woo her And date her and do her, Then dump her for floozies more urban. 67 Miss Gail had a friend, Bing A. Rebel, He was always in some kind of treble. He promised a rock If she’d choke his old cock Then he hit the poor girl with a pebble. 68 Bing’s real name was Libra, Gene B.-- Or so the town sheriff told me. His rap sheet of priors Was used in the fires He started to get himself free. 69 The last time we saw Bing A. Rebel, He had fallen in league with the Debbil. Thus Berben and Lane And I were all slain In a field… in New York… outside Preble. * Brian Belge |
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