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A naked lady had appeared
at midnight in my bed.
it is exactly what I'd feared,
that someday my friend Fred
would leave my sheets for foreign shores
find other love by chance.
These faggot boys don't have our mores,
he likely went to France.
I would have wept, I should have cried,
but here we had new strife,
it was the middle of my night,
she smiled, said 'I'm your wife'.
'Hardly, young girl ', I said with scorn,
'my taste is not for you,
an accident when you were born
deprived you of a new
and sturdy little whipper dipper,
that's what makes MY life great,
so, look at you, without that ripper
you could not be my mate.'
Well, wherupon the maiden grins
and takes my hand, to place it loosely
upon that box of many sins
I held my breath, while quite profusely
the sweat was pouring down my chest.
She called herself Madame De Trance,
her eyes were coals possessed of fire,
her fragrance was southwestern France,
it is a world that I admire.
I could not move or breathe or think,
was mesmerised and so confused,
that within minutes near the brink
I knew that if I could defuse
this spell and find my absent wits,
there would be hope for my gay soul.
To get away from those two tits
and, what appeared to be a hole.
A breath so deep my lungs were hurting
was my own signal for the kill,
just then she said 'a bit of flirting
is good for you, it never will
persuade you Poofters to betray
your hairy lovers with their stubbles.
So, here we go, and if I may
just show you how to fix your troubles.'
And then she did what can't be written.
her mouth did under satin cover
some deeds that had me wholly smitten
and I forgot my former lover.
At last I slept, dreamed I was dead,
when we awoke, again to tangle
I knew I'd never need in bed
those hairy parts that hang and dangle.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read poems about / on: girl, friend, fire, hope, world, sleep, smile, dream, fear
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