Down by the river’s edge we sing
We sing upon a friv’lous thing
A thing had by many, and yet sought
Sought by many, an’ oft times bought
A fruit, that shall convey no strength
Yet sight insight such tremb’lous length
A mouth to hunger, yet never feed
Subject to such bestial greed
That though it lingers deep below
It remains forever most desir’d foe;
‘neath it’s pubis shield the beast doth lurk
Blind yet seeing in darkling murk
In which lies dormant and conceal’d
Yet to prying hands will so often yield
It’s happy marshes, fresh and lush
Potent, with no sign of thrush.
A swift safe passage past all quarrel
For those that know how t’ employ some basic oral
But a fetid mire for those who fail to strum
the tune t’ quell the beast’s lascivious plum.
‘tis a truculent maw, that least is true,
So young man let us say to you
Evade the creature, if you’re able
Or your meat will lavish it’s dinner table!
But to those so inclined
(And there are many of that mind)
It is a thing that can be woo’d
Yet it desires a special food
Uniquely served, by gormands’ skills
So if you dare, attend it thrills
Indulge it’s whims, the whims of quims
But beware, should you fail, the loss of limbs.
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