you can carry a stick
to ward OFF every prick
or you simply use bullets of lead.
He walked softly, due to his fine shoes.
And he carried a very short fuse.
When he GAVE back the star
he went straight to the bar
and fell into a barrel of booze.
He got pissed as you well can deduce
yet he wanted to reproduce.
When he saw the young maid
he got mad and she laid.
In the morning they tied him the noose.
As he hung in the sun near the hills
way past caring and man’s petty ills.
In his trousers, which housed
little dork stayed aroused
unaware that his action could kill.
So the moral of this little fable,
is that those who are willing and able
to risk life and risk limb
on a sexual whim
are much safer, of course, in a stable.
I say hide all your sexual urges
and those seminal androgen surges.
Choose the dead of the night
to turn loose your small kite
keep it private then when he submerges.
A good poet named Sheridan’s Ted
who reminds me of Swiss buddy Fred.
Did inspire these words
(no, not mockinbirds)
Pssst, amigos I’m going to bed.