Saturday, October 17, 2009

The Erotomanic Mother Goose - 2

Every now and then when I can’t sleep, nursery rhymes arise from nowhere and run around my mind. Operating like ear-worms, they are rhythmical viruses injected into my subconscious when I was a small animal--a species of parentally-sanitized hip-hop intended for literacy-fledglings. Because I can’t remember more than few lines, I amuse myself by inserting dirty lyrics to complete the rhymes, a habit left from adolescence. Sometimes it helps me to fall asleep.


Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake,
Baker’s man!
Whip it out, master,
As fast as you can.

Pat it, prick it,
And mark it with T,
Put it in the oven
For Tommy and me

Little Bo-Peep

Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep
And doesn’t know where to find them.
Leave them alone and they’ll come home,
With a disgusting pervert behind them.

Banbury Cross

Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross
to see a fine lady upon a white horse.
Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes,
She shall have sex wherever she goes.

A Ballad of Anatomical Self-sufficiency

Piping hot,
Smoking box,
What I’ve got
You have not.

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