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Henry's breeches (Free verse) by Stephen Robins
As old Henry tugs and reaches, For the buttons on his breeches, He grunts and moans and wails, But ultimately he fails, Now this sodden aged fool, Is coated in his stool. As old Henry tears and fumbles, He gripes and groans and grumbles, The whoare stares on aghast, His breeches welded fast, Now this flaccid ancient bum, Is coated in his cum. As old Henry pulls and rips, He disrobes, or if you like he strips, Coated in his sludge, His breeches refuse to budge, Now this soiled broken lewd, Is in his breeches stewed.

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Skamper58.171.118.859October 22, 2007 10:21 PM PDT
pete62.56.78.1381October 19, 2007 2:02 PM PDT
xxx67.172.190.2530October 19, 2007 9:07 AM PDT



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