Rich Tarts' Applause
But then later in life I met a rich whore
And now of course, I live like a king
She even bought me a Tiffany ring
She even gave me a dose of the clap
At the Church of the Virgin it caused quite a flap
I prayed at her shrine to cleanse my foul parts,
But she ill-understood the art of the tarts
I prayed at her shrine to ease my disgrace
So she dropped her drawers and sat on my face
Sacrilege, yes, I'm headed for hell
I hear that down there, they look after you well
So now I'm rich, but I have this itch
To do every saint, if no one will snitch
If I nail every one, my sins will be purged
And under the waters, my body submerged
Contributors: | N, F, loaf, Dassn't Say, td, Kansas Sam, Randy, Karen, Beefy. |
Poem finished: | 26th August 2003. |