I am just writing this limerick
Because I’m not out getting any dick
The taste of it’s sour
And no lovely flower
It’s only a cut off ‘ol stem
For ev-er-y dollar I spend
I can hear you holler – no end!
But you do not make any sense
In love, you are aw-ful-ly dense
No longer my heart do I lend
You can’t hold me pris-on-er – No!
To be your sweet victim…Cajole!
Nor hold my girl ransom
Your planning’s so rancid
And I can not take any more!
If I am just flapping my gums
Then I must make use of my lungs
Because I can’t stand it
For you are a bandit
And I am now climbing the rungs!
If I did not contribute anything
I sure was a puppet with strings
Because you pulled every damn one of ‘em
They broke and you sure are a son-of-a…
We’ll see if my freedom will ring!
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