She could be a mirage
or angelic collage
and she met him in well-fitting shorts.
When the various wrappers unpeeled
it was clear and distinctly revealed
that her velvety skin
would be somewhat akin
to an exquisite treasure concealed.
She took hold of his slightly wet hand
and they wandered across the great land.
Now and then they would kiss
well, you know how it is
and he nursed a big ache in his gland.
Being bright she discovered his plight,
and suggested his pants were too tight.
So she opened his fly
and the felon said Hi
then they settled and stayed for the night.
Under pines and the eyes of the Moon
they held hands and she sang him a tune,
then they fumbled a bit
leading up to a hit
and she told him to use a balloon.
He strapped on a balloon and it stayed
but his felon was more than dismayed.
All the joy had been cut
and her beautiful butt
was so close and with pleasure displayed.
She saw grief and chagrin in his eyes
so to please him meant not to be wise,
they pulled off the balloon
threw it straight at the moon
and they whispered a few little lies.
It was later, some weeks had passed on,
when they watched little hooligans spawn,
He said let us soon pick
a most suitable stick
and let’s call him our little croissant.
Sixty fish had gone over the dam,
they were quick and they swam and they swam,
In the end, one small fish
got his uppermost wish
and croissant simply said: Here I am.
Thus, the moral is simple to grasp,
it’s no use to say OH and to gasp.
Leave unguarded the gate
it is often too late
if your felon ain’t wearing a clasp.

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