Perversions.
Mary had a little skirt,
with splits right up the sides,
and wherever Mary went,
the boys could see her thighs.
Mary had another skirt,
with a split right up the front,
. . . but she didn't wear that one very often.

Jack and Jill went up the hill,
to smoke some Marijuana.
Jack got high and unzipped his fly,
but Jill said 'I don't wanna'.
Jack and Jill went up the hill,
to have a spot of fun,
but silly Jill forgot her pill,
and now they have a son.

Mary had a little lamb,
she also had a duck.
She put them on the mantlepiece,
to see if they would . . . fall off.

(Alas, not by moi, but good all the same.)
(Hidden Dragon, Mon 15 Aug 2005, 12:15, Reply)

Dubai
In my first week as a fresher at university we had a big piss-up dinner and during the dinner there was a competition where each table had to come up with a limerick that began with "There was a young fresher..." They also said it could be a bit racy if we wanted. This was ours:

There was a young fresher from Dubai
Who munched on his bird's hairy pie.
Her lips were so wide
He couldn't keep it inside
So instead he just spoffed in her eye.

We won the competition and got some bucks fizz. Imagine our delight.
(stusut79, Mon 15 Aug 2005, 11:08, Reply)

With a "K"
I spell knife with a K
cause teachers don’t lie
there’s a silent fucking H
in when, where and why
X is fucking Z
and it’s I before the E
and some stupid fucking rule
about after fucking C
( Zank Frappa Who let the lefties in?, Mon 15 Aug 2005, 10:14, Reply)

Oooh, and this. Last one I promise
The gong was sounded for breakfast
By the butler all portly and stout
Mother came down with a pot full of piss
And Pa with his balls hanging out.

You're behaving quite nicely, said mother
Though seldom is my way to boast
Manners be fucked said father
As he wanked and came on the toast.

Then Peter he pissed in the kettle
And Spencer he shat in a spoon
Then Dad let out such a fucking big fart
Mother could scarse keep in tune.

Then John shoved a sausage up Susie
And laughed loud and long when she screamed
Then Ma asked Pa to crap in his hat
So baby could play with the steam.

Pa took off his trilby
And began to crimp a brown out
But the stink was to much
Ma barfed on his crotch
And dad just fucked off out.
( Captn Hood-Butter is not dead yet., Mon 15 Aug 2005, 9:50, Reply)

Or this one
I just remembered this one which is also full of sweary goodness.

I fucking fond of fucking
Fucking's my delight
I once fucked a tart
Forty times one fucking night
And every time I fucked her
I fucking came a quart
And if you don't call that 'fucking'
Then you fucking well ought.

I bought a fucking dildo
So I can fuck myself in bed
The fucking thing's completely fucked
So that knocks that on the head.
Now, if you fucking hate this tale
I'll fuck your gran instead.

Ah more nice memories.
( Captn Hood-Butter is not dead yet., Mon 15 Aug 2005, 9:34, Reply)

I'm ashamed
I remember this one from school. It didn't seem so bad then but when I read it now, it is quite a big bag of rude sweary guffery.

(Sung to the tune 'Sing a Song of Sixpence')

Sing a song of syphlis
A foreskin full of scabs
Half a dozen pus boils
And twice as many crabs
And when the boils were open
The crabs began to swim
Now isn't that a dainty dish
To bung up someone's quim.

Ah, how we had such fun back then.
( Captn Hood-Butter is not dead yet., Mon 15 Aug 2005, 9:24, Reply)

this is a real one from an old notebook i found in my shed.
The Fool
I must confess
I do digress
my indecision allows me to
for all at once
I am your dunce
Your joker
fool
head nuncle

So lifes cruel trick
I am but thick
Ill sit and watch
my boats sail by
there's nothing left
The maidens cry
And all at once
I stand stock still
The consequence is -
I am your dill!


God, how crap was that? So much for the gothic love story of the century. spew spew spew.

can you believe I used the word nuncle in a poem??? WANKER!!!!!
( sheraloonytunes, Mon 15 Aug 2005, 6:16, Reply)

I can't say I was big on the rhymes...
Woe is me to know the longing for that which I hold most dear -
To suffer the long hours of the day, thinking of his kiss,
And slumber the night alone, dreaming of his tender embrace.
I grow impatient anticipating those most precious of days
On which to lounge lazily, wrapped in my lover's arms,
When time knows no acquiescence to the world outside our door -
And the burdens of a thousand men are lifted from my soul.



How about pretentious? Everything I ever wrote seems pretentious! Like... I should be smoking Gauloises and sneering at people...
(Ecclesia, Mon 15 Aug 2005, 6:01, Reply)

back in the day...
Digging around in old scrap books i found this gem:
"If death isn't the end.
What is the value of a mourners tear?
If someone walks away.
What is the value of fear?
If you believe what you are told
What is the value of thought?
If you are forced.
What is the value of choice?
If you die.
What is the value of life?
If anything..."

And right at the back of the book:

Summer petal fall
beautiful haiku poems form
bollocks to all that

at the time i did the first one i was a right moany bastard, personally i think the second one is far far better and was actually used when we were told to write a haiku, the teacher laughed and accepted it and i got out of half an hours worth of work
(Voidedge, Mon 15 Aug 2005, 2:27, Reply)

American version
My eyes have seen the glory of the burning of our school
We have tortured every teacher
We have broken every rule
We barbequed the principal and ate her after school
The saints go marching on!

Glory, glory, halleluja!
Teacher hit me with a ruler
I shot her through the floor with an M44
Now the teacher don't teach no more!

*Taught to me by a girl in 6th grade. Seems a bit more violent then Mr. Jums' version
(Kitsune-chan I'm not a bunny I'm a grownup girl, Mon 15 Aug 2005, 2:05, Reply)

Bollocks
I can't claim to have made this up, and someone may already have posted it, but here goes anyway. Here's one I remember from when I was at school.

When I die, Bury me,
Hang my bollocks on a cherry tree,
When they're ripe, Take a bite,
And ask the neighbours if they taste alright.
(Sonic promises not to spray it in her eyes next time!, Mon 15 Aug 2005, 1:48, Reply)

Hmm
See-saw
Margery Daw
Johnny shall have a new master
He shall have but a penny a day
Because he's a lazy wee-

*mother covers my mouth before I can teach this lovely new version to my small sister*
(SusK, Mon 15 Aug 2005, 1:36, Reply)

erotic haiku
i'm your postman
i fill your box
love letters in dirty envelopes
(cowpat, Mon 15 Aug 2005, 1:29, Reply)

More of a parody song, really:
I wrote this in the middle of my GCSEs about our beardy RE teacher who was the most boring, unfunny man alive:

(to tune of Blackadder theme song)

He sits, stroking his holy beard
Not noticing the class is snoring,
We all think he's pretty weird,
Why must he be so boring? ...

El Beardo, El Beardo,
He has a bushy beard,
El Beardo, El Beardo,
His glasses are all smeared.

He thinks that every girl's a slut,
And also that his awful jokes are cute,
It's not much fun when you're the butt,
He wears white socks with his suit...

El Beardo, El Beardo,
Our grade's going down the pan,
El Beardo, El Beardo,
You horrid little man.

The lesson drags on for hours,
As we slip into a coma,
Making jokes about cold showers,
Beardy seemingly on soma*

El Beardo, El Beardo,
Like class with a brick wall,
El Beardo, El Beardo,
He taught us bugger all...

* Brave New World happy pills

We didn't like him very much.
( Maladicta, Sun 14 Aug 2005, 23:45, Reply)

okay its probably been done but
oh daddy!
why?
you said that when the tune rang,
that they had run out of,
icecream.

and why do those horrid australians always ask, the way to loogaborogah,
and various other urban myths,
oh it pains my angst ridden, hormone driven teenage soul daddio

and now all your bases are belong to me
(Fordprefect, Sun 14 Aug 2005, 22:35, Reply)

SPLINK
Not really teenage poetry, more poetry for teenagers (circa 1976)

find a safe place to cross and then STOP
stand on the PAVEMENT near the kerb
LOOK all round for traffic and then listen
IF traffic is coming let it pass
when there is NO traffic near walk straight across the road
KEEP looking and listening for traffic as you cross

Well, now we'll all remember the Green Cross Code and use it. Splink.
(pronts, Sun 14 Aug 2005, 21:29, Reply)

People used to sing this to me...
Andy Pandy pudding and pie, kissed the girls and made them cry, when the boys came out to play, he kissed them too 'cos he's a gay.

Cunts.
(Joons, Sun 14 Aug 2005, 20:05, Reply)

A development of a very old one...
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the burning of the school,
We have tortured every teacher we have broken every rule;
We have locked them in the staff room and pushed them in the pool,
Our troops go marching on.

Glory, glory alleluia,
Teacher hit me with a ruler,
The ruler broke in two, so he hit me with a shoe,
De dun de dum de dum

Again, definitely preteen...
(Mr_Jums, Sun 14 Aug 2005, 19:54, Reply)

What larks:
There was once a young man called Prior,
who found that he was a big liar,
he claimed he was straight,
but had a queer gait,
that other gay men would admire.

There was once a young man called Nick,
who found that he had a small dick,
he found a small lump,
whilst taking a dump,
but it was cancer, and he died.

I'm walking on sunshine;
the sun's gone behind a cloud;
now I am falling.

. . .All composed by moi. [bows]
(Hidden Dragon, Sun 14 Aug 2005, 18:28, Reply)

Santa's elf
A friend of mine was deeply besotted with a girl at our school and wrote a *beautiful* poem for her. He dragged me into the loos and asked me to read it and say whether i thought it was good. I read down and thought, well this is your usual love poem drivel, i cannot remember the exact details. But then, i got to the last couplet, and could not contain my tears:

"I love you more than santa's elf,
I love you more than life itself"

Amusingly enough, he got the girl.
(standardcrow, Sun 14 Aug 2005, 16:54, Reply)

sixth form poetry
All God's children need travelling shoes
Drive your problems from here
All good people read good books
Now your conscience is clear
I hear you talk girl
Now your conscience is clear

In the morning I wipe my brow
Wipe the miles away
I like to think I can be so willed
And never do what you say
I'll never hear you
And never do what you say
(urchaidh, Sun 14 Aug 2005, 16:16, Reply)

An ode called Seperate Toilets
Never a fan of teen poetry, but me and some mates had a 'band' called Yellowhat back when I was covered in acne that even now apparently has reunions. We were shit, but tried hard. My opus was this song, which you have to imagine with a slow doo-wop beat on a bontempi or my mates dads hammond organ, and 'wop-wop, a doo-wop-wop' between every rhyming couplet -

Just 'cos I've got the shits
Don't mean I don't love you
Runny and dripping squits
Don't mean I don't want you

(chorus)
Just 'cos my areshole has seen better days
Don't mean I can't love you in different ways
And so I've got to get used to us
Crapping in seperate toilets
(bum doo wop-wop, a doo wop wop)

The stench of my toilet mess
Is off-putting, that I know
Your plan has failed, I guess
To stop my botty flow

(chorus)
I've started storing my shit in large water
tanks
You've signed up a deal with Armitage Shanks
And so I've got to get used to us
Crapping in seperate toilets
(bummer doo-wop-wop, a-doo wop wop)

Nice eh? We had another song called 'Africa', which went

Africaaaaaa
I've never been there
I've got some hair
Tickle me, under there....
(phookoo, Sun 14 Aug 2005, 16:14, Reply)

Not me but my brother...
Her name was wendy
she was so trendy
she was so fine
she blew my mind
but she had...
schizo
schizo
schizo
schzio
schziophrenia
phre-ni-a!


Oh dear...i think it was true too...
(Miss badger dragon of albino desent, Sun 14 Aug 2005, 15:46, Reply)

Mmm... Chavy
Im Orange With Envy

Look, theres Peter Andre
Hes looking browner then me
Everytime I see his tan
I get oranger with envy
( spaceage, Sun 14 Aug 2005, 15:32, Reply)

6th Form English Lessons
Two poems written during english when I was 17 about my mates who sat next to me. Found in an old clip file in my loft last year.

Dean:

Dean,
Deany Dean.
Deany Deany Deanity Dean.
How marvellous it must have been
To have your parents name you Dean.
And I wonder if you've ever seen
A lima bean or a naked queen?
And do you ever use Mr Sheen
To keep your house so nice and clean?
Well Dean?
Do you want to join the team?
Dean?

Craig:

Craig.
Craigy.
Craigy McCraig O'Craig Craigahan.
You are a big twat.
But not fat.
Or in a hat.
You don't work in Badats,
Or like to fuck cats.
But you are a big twat.
Bjat, bjat bjat.
Twat.

Oooo, the wit and mastery of the text is sublime(ly fuckwitted).
(daverule Poobumwobblebottynobnobsex, Sun 14 Aug 2005, 14:40, Reply)

tada
I may not like your haircut
Or your many gripes
But if you ever need a favour
I can sell you ceramic pipes


and:


She wailed and screamed quite bitterly
And fought to hold the tears
As the earwig ate her cerebrum
And blood poured out her ears

me age 11 :)
( Box of Rabbits, Sun 14 Aug 2005, 13:26, Reply)

Who doesnt remember reading this poem in school....
Ode to a goldfish,

O!
Wet!
Pet!

hehe i stil love it =P
(acharps, Sun 14 Aug 2005, 12:24, Reply)

A Cat Poem
See the cat sitting on the fence,
That pile of sick,
From it came whence....
(booionic, Sun 14 Aug 2005, 11:31, Reply)

Not in any language
Een gastarbeider uit Utrecht
vroeg aan een hoer "kan 'k bij u t'trecht?"
hij kwam maar niet klaar
dus hij zei tegen haar
"Ach mensj hou toch eens je kuut recht!"
(Dr Slurkie Slurkie, Sun 14 Aug 2005, 10:07, Reply)

this one was real. Oh dear...
The day I met you
The day I died
The day I met my spirit
The day I didn’t cry
The time we were together
The year we spent apart
I did all but forget you
And your place in my heart
The caravan burning on the beach
The day that I went home
The evening at that restaurant
The years I spent alone
Those times that I spent smiling
And those parts I can’t forget
Times when I did not know you
Long before we had even met
Times I say were wonderful
Times I say I hated
Times I say I really missed
And the time when we first dated
The time when I first failed you
You thought my love was a hoax
The place where I kept my feelings
Locked in their empty box
The time when we were lovers
The day we found out ‘us’
The week we spent on holiday in a
Miserable broken-down bus
The times we do not remember
The future we do not see
The love we can no longer hold
For we are no longer ‘we’ and that’s all there is to it, goodbye.
( Frumbert has no sig, Sun 14 Aug 2005, 8:29, Reply)