Poems
|
info
|
My love in her attire doth show her wit,
It doth so well become her:
For every season she hath dressings fit,
For winter, spring, and summer.
No beauty she doth miss,
When all her robes are on;
But beauty's self she is,
When all her robes are gone.
Category: Beauty in Women Author: Anonymous
|
0 Give your vote +5
| |
|
Like this poem?
leave your comment
here
|
She frowned and called him Mr.
Because in sport he Kr.
And so in spite
That very night
This Mr. Kr. Sr.
Category: Kissing Author: Anonymous
|
0 Give your vote +5
| |
|
Like this poem?
leave your comment
here
|
A rogue met a pretty young Mrs,
A widow, and stole a few Krs,
And the lady, though she was astounded,
Said she'd waive prosecution,
If he'd make restitution,
So the felony soon was compounded.
Category: Kissing Author: Anonymous
|
0 Give your vote +5
| |
|
Like this poem?
leave your comment
here
|
Said a newly-wed maiden of Ealing,
"A honeymoon seems so appealing
But for nearly two weeks
I've heard only bed-squeaks,
And seen nothing but cracks in the ceiling."
Category: The Honeymoon Author: Anonymous
|
0 Give your vote +5
| |
|
Like this poem?
leave your comment
here
|
A weary bride -- poor little fluff -
Said, "My thing's all tender and rough
I realise, Cyril
You're terribly virile
But six times a day is enough."
Category: The Honeymoon Author: Anonymous
|
0 Give your vote +5
| |
|
Like this poem?
leave your comment
here
|
