Hung preacher, his object
Schoolboy pederasty—
He wants ’em so badly,
Hosting his apogee. . .
Inside ’em with a long ’un,
Like Foley with a page.
Lewd father’s holey groped now
With boys less half his age.

Pope’s man, Pope’s man so,
Pope’s man so “knows” kiddies.

The back end he covets—
There’s many lads to get.
Sometimes it’s not so easy
To get those breeches wet.
Temptations, 12 stations;
His “dad” is up on high,
Yet. . .thrusts tots; he’s satin’
(That homophone let’s try).

Pope’s man, Pope’s man gropes,
Pope’s man gropes those kiddies.

Goosed tots in the classroom. . .
He burns for fry—small fry.
Schlong surge, then a staffed moon—
The accusations fly.
It’s no use; the geezers
In Rome shake the claims off.
These old men’s goal: to spin
Gender-switched Nabokov.

Pope’s man, Pope’s man gropes,
Pope’s man gropes host kiddies.

Pope’s man, Pope’s man poles,
Pope’s man poles host kiddies.