Comedies of manners

This section deals with the appropriateness of certain behaviours, usually in those grey areas where the rules of etiquette either are not explicit, or completely avoid the issue. It is nice to think, though, that in some aspects of human relations, there is still room for some spontaneity.



There’s a naughty young girl called Adelle,
Who does things about which she can’t tell,
But the scandal is not
What she does in the cot,
But the fact that she does it so well!


Said my dad, “Lad, seduction’s an art:
There are three ways to win a girl’s heart.
You can say it with flowers,
Or verse, which takes hours,
Or just say “Lie down, legs apart!”


Given two girls, between whom to choose,
Pick the slut; she has nothing to lose.
She’ll do things nice girls don’t,
There are few things she won’t.
Sluts are nice, and so easy to use!


A young lady from Badgery Creek
Stepped outside late one night, for a leak.
When she squatted, the grass
Sort of tickled her arse,
So she did it each night for a week!


I’ve a neighbour who plays the bassoon,
Every night by the light of the moon.
She stands out on her lawn,
Dressed the way she was born:
She looks nice, but she plays out of tune.


In the midst of the trickiest bit
Came a shriek from the orchestra pit,
Which was closely pursued
By a cry of “Damn rude!
Keep your trombone away from my tit!”


The improbably proper Miss Blyton
Was easy to shock and to frighten:
She dined with the vicar,
She never drank liquor
And never made love with the light on.


After one or two glasses of booze,
Miss Virginia’s loins start to ooze:
She proclaims she wants cock
And as hard as a rock,
And she doesn’t mind very much whose!


Every male of some Scottish clans
Wears a little brass ring through his glans,
And conceals thereby,
by a string down his thigh,
His life savings, in little tin cans.


When a man was a man, with a club,
He could wait for a mate in the scrub:
Any girl of the species,
Fur, feathers and faeces,
Was his, and no risk of a snub.


In the old days, of hot-rods and cola,
We all loved a nice rock ‘n’ roller,
Especially flirts,
In their short pleated skirts,
Not concerned about pushing a stroller.


There’s a naughty young lady called Coorey,
Who worked a bloke into a fury:
She said no (wink), (nudge).
Did she mean yes? You judge,
And we twelve next in line will be jury.


Though it’s not, strictly speaking, correct,
If the young lady doesn’t object,
You can bypass the hours
Of small talk and flowers,
And go to the fucking direct!


Gilding the lily

When young women go out on a date,
It’s the primeval search for a mate,
So they groom and they dress
To entice and impress,
And try not to leave too much to fate

Once a girl would have been chaperoned:
Private meetings were never condoned.
Well, back then that was great,
But these days kids don’t wait,
They hook up and get drunk or get stoned.

Now a girl does herself up as bait,
Almost serves herself up on a plate,
And behaviour’s routine,
Once thought lewd and obscene
Self respect and regrets come too late!

Not content with her natural state,
And obsessed with her body and weight,
A young girl now invests
In new super-size breasts,
Which go hard or cock-eyed, or deflate.

You could see it as funny or sad.
Modern girls are all stupid or mad.
They just can’t get it straight:
Why such distrust and hate
Of the natural beauty they had?


She said “Sir, you can never deny
That you raped me!” I said, “No, not I.”
She said, “Sir, you’re a cad!”
I said, “Madam, not bad!
I’m a cad, though not he who had thee, but nice try!”


My new mistress, evasive and devious,
Asked had she acted mischievious,
Said “Not as such…
Well, not terribly much…
That is… nobody new, just my previous!”


A young lad and his lass, down in Dover,
Were having a romp in the clover:
He said “Let’s play cricket!”
She said “You can stick it!”
He did, and he bowled said young bold maiden over!


Poor wee delicate Angus Dunbarton
On cold morns was never a spartan:
The rest of the clan
Thought him less than a man,
To wear underwear under the tartan!


In the throes of a  torrid embrace,
Miss O’Toole maintains marvellous grace:
She indulges men’s whims
With her loins and her limbs,
But with never a hair out of place!


In a voice that was less than enthused,
She said “Frankly, I’m far from amused.
You have come in such  haste,
It’s a sad fucking waste!
I’m beginning to wish I’d refused!”


My ex-girlfriend (and boy, do I mean ex)
Wore dresses with deep plunging v-necks.
She never went out,
Even shopping, without
Condoms, lubricant jelly and Kleenex!


“Please be gentle!” she said. “You’re my first!”
With a tear in her eye and lips pursed.
Said he, wise to her game,
“All you girls are the same:
Never done it, but damn well rehearsed!”


The Flirt

She was known around town as a flirt,
Strutting round in her little short skirt.
She went drinking in bars,
And she never wore bras;
You could see her tits, right through her shirt!

All the mums in the town were alert,
Watching out for young Tom, Dick or Bert,
Who would all cop a  wallop
If caught with this trollop,
With nipples so pointy and pert!

When they spoke to her, women were curt,
(In suspenders and step-ins well-girt),
She was called slut and whore,
And a loose bitch and more:
She was even called “that piece of dirt!”

At the pub, though, the men-folk would blurt,
“I could fuck that sweet bitch till it hurt!”
They did nothing, of course,
For the fear of divorce
And disgrace kept their organs inert.

But young boys’ sleeping organs would spurt,
Like whipped cream on a jelly dessert,
And they’d wake in their beds,
With that girl in their heads,
As their cocks gave one last lonely squirt.




A fastidious lady called Florence,
Professes enormous abhorrence
For man’s proudest portion,
Quite out of proportion
To that which its ugliness warrants!


That Miss Smith sun-bathed nude in her garden
Caused Alfred, next door’s dick to harden.
He gave in to temptation,
( To whit: fornication),
Without even begging her pardon.


A pathetically penniless gent
Fucks his landlord’s wife, Maude, for the rent:
Though she’s large and unsightly
He rogers her nightly,
Then creeps back to bed, when he’s spent!


Though a slut and a bitch and gold-digger,
She had a remarkable figure,
That begged to be screwed,
And she loved to get nude,
And do just that, with unashamed vigour!


A young lady, who’d never been had,
Was seduced by a dashing young cad.
Though she seemed to protest,
She so soon acquiesced,
That he knew she was secretly glad!


To be just a wee bit hard of hearing,
In old chaps, is rather endearing,
And codgers thus blessed
May lean close to one’s breast,
Which they should, of course, do without leering!


There are some girls it’s just hard to jilt,
And it’s not just because they’re well built!
There are pangs of remorse
For their bodies of course,
But it’s worse if you’ve stained their best quilt!


3765 1969 by Peter Blake born 1932


A deceptive young lady called Kelso
Loves sex, though one can’t really tell so.
She likes her men tough,
And the love-making rough:
She just wishes their sweat didn’t smell so!




She was pretty, well-rounded and kissable.
Squeezing her tits was permissible.
Fucking was too,
Though it was also true,
Only pricks of great size were admissible.


When a fellow’s been stabbed with a knife,
Prompt first-aid may perhaps save his life:
If he’s really a mess,
Then it’s safe to confess
You’ve been having it off with his wife.


In the much more relaxed tropic latitudes,
People have sensible attitudes:
“How do you do,”
And then on with the screw,
And to hell with the small talk and platitudes!



There’s a  generous hooker, called Lee
Who does all sorts of things for a fee.
If you’re terribly nice
She may lower her price,
And she might even do it for free!


To describe a girl’s morals as loose
Is to say she’s not hard to seduce,
Which is not to say, though,
That she never says no,
But she’ll fuck at the slightest excuse!


If a woman whose knickers are loose
Has sufficient secretion of juice,
If a fellow is quick,
He can slip in his dick,
Where and when it will be of most use!


That most sensuous woman, Michelle,
Oozes sex: men fall under her spell!
Men have come in their pants
From one smouldering glance
And some others get off on her smell!


My sweet mistress, the lovely Miss Millie,
Declared I was perfectly silly
To loosely refer
To what wasn’t, to her,
Even nice, as “her delicate lily”!


Mrs Jones said to Hilda, next door,
“Having sex is just one more dull chore!
Don’t you think that that’s so?”
And dull Hilda said “No,
Your man Jim makes me want more and more!”


An unfortunate girl, called Petunia,
Developed the dread dyspareunia:
She’d screw Dad no more,
So he went to a whore,
And Petunia stayed home and screwed Junior!


When Luigi drinks wine and eats pizza
He swears at his mistress, and bizza!
She cries at the time,
But she thinks it’s sublime,
When they kiss and make up, and he izza!


Said a young tennis player, named Polly,
“I think making love is just jolly,
To athletic blokes,
With good depth to their strokes,
And who play my return on the volley!”


Caroline Wozniacki


To present to the world a neat quim,
One should give one’s short curlies a trim,
Add a touch of Chanel
To augment its own smell,
And dab lipstick and rouge round the rim.


In this sad economic recession,
It’s five dollars less for a session:
The best whore in town
Has her asking price down,
And some offer a student concession!



She contracted her service to render,
And threw herself open to to tender:
She placed a reserve,
To discourage the perv,
But took bids irrespective of gender.


They’re a canny old people, the Scotch,
To get lassies to dance, while they watch,
And with nae hint of guilt,
Watch the swirl of the kilt,
For a glimpse of a bushy young crotch!


In the war of the sexes, the tactic
Of offering white girls a black dick,
While either produce
An outpouring of juice,
Or they’ll find it quite anticlimactic.


I would find it a difficult task,
To recall whom I screwed at the masque:
Incognito conditions
Make girls’ inhibitions
So few that one hardly need ask!


The decline in this town’s moral tone
Was just yesterday once again shown,
When I twice or thrice more
Fucked the woman next door,
Whom I have from her husband on loan.


Having scoffed down too much gin and tonic,
She waxed, in a word, histrionic,
And made much ado
About one little screw
That was meant to be simply platonic!


Every night, on a silken trapeze,
She performs an exotic striptease,
Then with elan amazing,
On those raptly gazing,
Disarmingly charmingly pees!



That the viking king, Olaf was vain,
One used often hear wenches complain:
At the sexual act,
Poor old Ollie, in fact,
Was a good, but not truly great Dane


It’s been poor form since heaven knows when,
To enjoy a stray root , now and then:
Though of course, it’s not done,
When it is, it’s such fun,
That we do it again and again!


She said no, but she knew that she would;
She would let him persuade her she should.
When they did, and he came,
She would whisper  his name
And she’d give in again, if he could.


Said a naive young girl, “Though I yearn,
I don’t quite know which way I should turn,
But if given a chance,
If we take off our pants,
I’ll soon show you I’m willing to learn!”


As a lover, she’s keen, if not zealous,
As mistress, possessive and jealous.
She’s not very bright,
But her body’s alright:
(I confess to some chauvinist malice).

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