Tubingen

I wished to find a magic clitoris,
Only for nights in a foreign land;
I did fly over the deepest ocean,
To find that sweet spot where to lay my hand.

But my waist is wide and I cannot cross over,
And neither have I the wings to fly;
I wish I could meet a handsome fireman,
To fetch me over, my love and I.

Now I must pause in sad reflection,
On happy times I spent so long ago;
My former joys, and my great erection
Have passed away like the melting snow.

Now I'll spend my day in endless groaning,
Hard is the stone, I can't get free;
Oh to go back to the magic clitoris,
Where once I sported in ecstasy.

Now in Tubingen, it is reported,
There are marble stones like a lady's front;
For gold and silver I there resorted,
But I was ill rewarded for my cunning stunt.

I'm drunk today, I'll be drunk tomorrow,
The drink I'll follow from town to town;
Ah, but I'm stuck now, and my days are numbered,
Come all you firemen, and take me down.

© Pheasant Plucker Productions 24 June 2014