She's got an old friend
Who's pretty grizzly-gray.
Though she has nothing smart to say,
She smiles—I'm undone. . .
Kisser appeal.
Some tail I'd love to nail.

In polls they're so low, blown their leads.
He frets, "They're gonna damn-Bush! me,"
As they go down, down, down. Gone to seed
Is the wooden dude.
Sarah's cuter.

She's a MILF* I'd like to ball--
Wish she'd set free
The porpoise in BVDs,
Upright the long fish that longs
To swim in that slim drain.

I'd not reel in that fish too quick;
I'd let it flail in the oil slick
That's full of sperm, sperm, sperm. . .not Moby Dick.
Oooooh! Sarah's cooter.

"Fell' me, fell' me!" the porpoise said.
Dive down deep where sounds are bred:
Uv' and ululation too.

Late at night when I'm in bed--
Reverie 'bout attack
Ads, and my restive tool spends a pool.

Your hockey maw, crimson lipstick,
Oh! gloms on to my bredded fishstick,
Although I spurn, spurn, spurn your politics.
Oooooooh! Sarah's [elo]cutor!

And so I squirm, squirm, squirm from piscine licks.
Cheeeeeeeeeeew! Sarah, 'cuda.