There once was a man from Madras Who had balls made our of fine brass In times of bad weather He'd clang them together And sparks would fly out of his arse

There once was a young knight from France Who decided to give sex a chance To Scotland he travelled His belt he unraveled And skewered a sheep on his lance

There once was a young lad from Brighton Who remarked his first lay was a tight'un She said "you're a fool you've got the wrong hool there's plenty more room in the right'un!"