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[personal profile] timpeltje


There once was a little black boy,
Whose first name was Jerome.
Lived with his mum, who had no employ
In a shed that they called their home,

'T was the fifties, when women were lazy,
And could spend all day birthing and baking,
Which we today might find quite crazy,
But then Jerome's mum had other worries aching.

Jerome, though always nimble and sweet,
Liked putting his winkle into all he did see,
Pies, sofas, melons, and pounds of minced meat,
The whole town did witness his penetrative glee.

"Y'all know it won't end well!" his mum did say,
Yet Jerome was too busy with all his unzipping,
If only he listened, is what she did pray,
Alas! To no avail, out it came with a whipping!

One faithful day, Jerome thought he struck gold,
A fence with a hole, as wide as his cock,
Which just took him a second to fully unfold,
Boy, was he in for a shock!

His mum saw the geese, thought "It'll serve him right!"
And Jerome continued, cock through the hole,
Along came the geese, all eager to bite,
She just saw some food and not Jerome's pole.

Jerome his scream was heard across the land,
He'd never do it again, that much he knew,
Not that the he could, the geese had him de-manned,
He'd learnt his lesson, so he withdrew.

The tale wasn't over, because all over town,
Closeted gay men were intrigued by this feat,
Replacing the geese, in jizz they could drown,
A thought that to them sounded actually quite neat.

Public toilets all got drilled for holes,
Thanks to Jerome and his adventurous mind,
Jerome was adored by those closeted souls,
The gloryhole invented, for Man to unwind.

The End.