You thought the vengeful children
Would spin you 'round forever,
Then you go forth with a streamer
To stick on the vacant buns.

You are unable to see--blinded eyes with a handkerchief;
You must touch to find the breaches,
Pin the tail on brayed asinus
'cause its naked rear is torpid
With no neat fly-swatter swinging.
And your playmates now are callin you
To place that tail with tip.

You must re-curl its body, stab pin through the tush poised,
But your footsteps do not follow to where the heinie be.
And then your fingers find her, you pound it in her body,
Carving deep red fissures in tissues of her behind,

Bright pulsing rivulets lap over your ring finger,
And she wants to squarely hit you with her hard hand, made a fister.
Her nailed-in ass is mighty scratched and bright red crimson wells--
Then the blows: she starts to beat you
And she'll punch with fisted hands.

No tail on brayed asinus,
And your naked ears are torquèd
By her flying meathook swinging.

Bright pulsing rivulets lap over your dinged sphincter
'cause the tail has squarely hit you in the part that halves your keister.