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PETER'S SELECTION There was a young girl from Thermopylae Who dressed so exceedingly slopylae There was no way of tracing Which way she was facing Except by behaving impropylae. divider There was a New Yorker named Hannah Who liked to make love on a piannah A hell of a fine way To treat a new Steinway But such is the star-spangled mannah. divider At post-mortems a doctor from Chad When he found that the pieces he had Totalled less then the whole Called the rest “Weight of soul” (But the fact is, he just couldn’t add). divider A vociferous tenor from Napoli Sang the third act of Tosca so scrapoli That the cast said, “Oh do let’s Use actual bullets.” And they did, so it all ended happily. divider There was a young girl of Bermuda Every man on the island had wooed her I’m afraid that the rest Must be sternly supressed It gets ruder and ruder and ruder. divider There was a gym mistress from Munich Who was four times as big as her tunic The chaps in Bavaria Like a large area (Not that they’re specially unique). divider There was a young man of the Lido Who subdued a ferocious libido By fasting and prayer A shirt made of hair And a girl here and there, same as we do. divider “In France,” said an English Milord “I frequently found I was bored Till I left the George Cinq For the opposite bank Where I learned some home thoughts from a broad.” divider There was a young man of Utrecht Whose approach was both crude and direct To a girl he would say “Are you good for a lay?” (He did better than one might expect). divider There was a young curate of Kew Who kept a tom-cat in a pew He tried to teach it to speak Alphabetical Greek But it never got further than mew. divider There was a young man from St Bees Who was stung on the nose by a wasp When they asked, “Does it hurt? He said, “Yes, it does Thank goodness it wasn’t a hornet!” divider There was a young poet from Cannes Whose long verses never did scan When they pointed this out In reply, he would shout, “I like to get as many words in the last line as I possibly can.” divider There was an young belle of old Natchez Whose garments were always in patchez When comment arose On the state of her clothes She drawled, “When Ah itchez, Ah scratchez.” divider There was an old man of Calcutta Who coated his tonsils with butta This converted his snore From a thunderous roar To a soft, oleaginous mutta.
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