The Spoonbill Generator

Compulsive Fondling By Men Of Gentility

She checked its lock a dozen times       [Kansas Sam ]

And then a dozen more       [Roland ]

Within it were a thousand dimes       [N ]

Earned while she'd been a whore       [F ]

She thought it not the worst of crimes       [N ]

She'd hated being poor       [F ]

All she had were raunchy rhymes       [N ]

Written by Al Gore       [F ]

She hid it under seven sheets       [N ]

As she'd been told to do       [F ]

Then counted slowly - thirty beats       [N ]

And very swiftly drew       [F ]

The curtains with their many pleats       [N ]

Their fringes and froufrou       [F ]

Blocking noise from city streets       [N ]

(Resuming her voodoo)       [F ]

She closed the doors, all seventeen       [N ]

Said a prayer to Ishtar       [F ]

Ensured that she would not be seen       [N ]

By those who haunt the bar       [Beefy ]

(Those types are rough and mean)       [N ]

But she'd left one door ajar!       [Beefy ]

And armed with just a magazine,       [N ]

There ventured a hussar       [Beefy ]

She screamed aloud, say twenty times       [F ]

But no-one heard a sound       [N ]

While from afar cathedral chimes       [F ]

Were heard, as she was drowned       [N ]

In silent rapture; he, betimes       [F ]

As cunning as a hound,       [N ]

Committed several minor crimes       [F ]

But never could be found       [Beefy ]

Contributors: Kansas Sam, Roland, N, F, Beefy.
Poem finished: 27th August 2004 by N.