Anonymous - Pearl

He who has put them to the test,

Must own his neighbour's wife's the best.

QUEEN BATHSHEBA.

A Temperance Ballad. (Attributed to Sir Wilfrid Lawson.)

Grass widows and princes! a warning I sing,

Of the sad wicked doing of David, the King;

With Bathsheba, wife of poor Major Uriah,

Who was bathing one day, when the King chanc'd to spy her.

He was drinking up-stairs, and the weather was hot;

And her window was open (a thing she forgot);

And the stark-naked beauty had not an idea,

That while she was washing, a creature could see her!

She and her little sister were sporting together,

Enjoying the heat of the bright summer weather;

They bath'd in the fountain, and while they were washing,

Were romping all naked, and leaping and splashing.

What man could resist such an awful temptation?

He forgot he was King of the sanctified nation;

He was fill'd with delight, and lewd admiration,

And was mad for the raptures of fierce fornication.

Beware of the Devil, who seldom lies sleeping!

So while she was washing, and while he was peeping,

The King's living sceptre grew stiff as a rod,

"Nice mutton!" cried David, "I'll fuck her, by G—!"

So calling a page, he desir'd him to go,

And enquire all about her. — He answered, "I know

The lady your Majesty's pleas'd to admire,

Is the wife of the valorous Major Uriah."

His Majesty answer'd: "Go, fetch her! Be quick!

Much conscience, indeed, has a stiff-standing prick!"

The page ran to call her; she put on her smock,

And hurried to wait on his Majesty's cock.

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,

And she fell on her back, like a sweet willing dear;

He was frantic with lust, but she seiz'd his erection,

And put it at once in the proper direction.

She was girlish and lively, a heavenly figure,

With the cunt of an angel, and fucking with vigour;

He got her at once with child of a son,

And he said a long grace when the swiving was done.

So the lady went home, and she very soon found

Her belly was growing unluckily round.

"This an honour," said she, "I could hardly expect,

Your Majesty now must your handmaid protect."

"Never fear," cried the King, "I'll be your adviser,

I'll send for the Major, and no one's the wiser."

So he sent for Uriah, who speedily came.

But unluckily never laid hands on the dame.

King David was puzzled, he made the man tipsy,

But still he avoided the lewd little gipsy;

David laid a new plot, and his wish was fulfill'd,

In the front of the battle Uriah was kill'd.

THE HORRIBLE FRIGHT.

Poor Sally! I hear from your loving Mamma,

That you're in a horrible fright of Papa;

Take courage, dear girl, for the sweetest delight,

Is closely akin to a horrible fright.

In your dreams, did you ne'er see a horrible man,

Who crushes and conquers you, do all you can?

He treats your poor innocent mouse like a rat

That's touzled and claw'd, and devour'd by a cat.

He produces a horrible fright of a thing,

That fits like a finger in conjugal ring;

He thrusts, and he pokes, and he enters your belly,

Till the horrible monster is melted to jelly.

When you draw a new glove on your finger so tight,

The glove is, you know, in a horrible fright;

But soon it is taught your dear finger to love,

The man and the woman are finger and glove.

Away with your horrible fright, and away

With the wretch of a father, who hinders the play;

If he dares interfere, when you kiss on the sly,

Just pull up your petticoat, piss in his eye.

Ah! Sally, my darling, I wish that this night,

I might put you, my love, in a horrible fright;

You might lie down a maiden, in five minutes more,

I would open a secret, ne'er open'd before.

You then would behold, long, ruddy, and thick,

That horrible monster, a stiff-standing prick;

You'd cry out, "Oh, softly! Oh, gently! Ah! Ah!

Oh lordy, oh lordy, oh harder, la! la!"

At last, dearest Sally, your horrible fright

Would end in a shudder of tipsy delight;

You'll open your buttocks, as wide as you can,

To admit every inch of the dear cruel man.

You'll devour every inch of his horrible yard,

Till the testicles hit on your bottom so hard;

Your terrible fright, my dear girl, will be over,

You'll breathe out your soul, on the lips of your lover.

There's an end of this horrible fright of a song,

Your mother shall read it, and say if it's wrong;

No, she will approve it — her greatest delight

Is the prick which you fancy such a horrible fright.

PAYNE'S HILL (Mons Veneris).

In Middlesex a hill we meet,

For beauty known to fame;

Where wealthy Payne has built his seat,

Payne's Hill they call its name.

"Pray, Mr. Burke," said Lady Payne,

"What Latin word is this?

(I've searched the dictionary in vain),

Pray what's Mons Veneris?"

He look'd into her beauteous eyes,

So innocent of ill;

And gave the happiest of replies,

"It signifies Payne's Hill! "

INSTANCE OF SELF-DENIAL.

Mohammed Sadig, a gentleman at Hyderabad, received a female slave, belonging to his brother at Kurnool, who was going to Bengal, and requested Sadig to keep his property for a year. Her beauty excited his passions greatly. He told the story to my friend, Captain Keighley, and ended thus: "To lie with her carnally would have been wrong, as my brother had not permitted it, so I governed my love by the holy rules of moderation and virtue, and contented myself with merely fucking her in the arse."

George Stokes, the cheesemonger in Snowhill, had Dr. Cullen one night as a guest. Cullen did not fancy the cheese on the table, and said, "You do not know how to select cheese; let me go into the warehouse and pick one out." He did this, and the cheese he selected was delicious. Everyone declared it most excellent. "How did you pitch upon it, and in the dark, too?" said Stokes. "I'll tell you," said the Doctor. "I tried several, till I came to one which made my prick stand. This is it; a prime cheese smells exactly like a blooming, ripe, girl's cunt."

NURSERY RHYMES.

There was a young lady of Gaza,

Who shaved her cunt clean with a razor;

The crabs in a lump

Made tracks to her rump,

Which proceeding did greatly amaze her.

There was a young lass of Surat,

The cheeks of whose arse were so fat

That they had to be parted,

Whenever she farted,

And also whenever she shat.

There was an old priest of Siberia,

Who of fucking grew wearier and wearier;

So one night after prayers,

He bolted upstairs,

And buggered the Lady Superior.

There was an old man of Natal,

Who was lazily fucking a gal,

Says she, "You're a sluggard,"

Said he, "You be buggered,

I like to fuck slowly, and shall."

There was a young farmer of Nant,

Whose conduct was gay and gallant,

For he fucked all his dozens

Of nieces and cousins,

In addition, of course, to his aunt.

There was an old man of Tantivy,

Who followed his son to the privy,

He lifted the lid,

To see what he did,

And found that it smelt of Capivi.

There was a young man of this Nation,

Who didn't much like fornication;

When asked, "Do you fuck?"

He said, "No, I suck

Women's quims, and I use Masturbation."

There was a young parson of Eltham,

Who seldom fucked whores, but oft felt 'em.

In the lanes he would linger,

And play at stick finger,

'Twas on the way home that he smelt 'em.