THE NINE MUSES OF THE ARTS – CLIO (MUSE OF HISTORY)

 

The nine muses

Daughters of Zeus

Inspiring of mortals

And nurturers of the arts

The second was,

The divine Clio

The maker of fame,

Was the muse of history

A parchment scroll in her hands

Clio was the proclaimer

A TRIP TO THE FARM

 

When our class

Visited the local farm

We had a lovely day

 

And on the bus home

We sang a song

About our lovely day

 

The sheep go baa

The cows go moo

The ducks go quack

Chickens cock a doodle doo

 

The shepherd says hi

The cowman says hello

Get off that fucking tractor

We hear the farmer bellow

I AM THE WOMAN

 

When a door opens

And a siren enters the room

And every head turns

I am that woman

 

When the siren slinks

And you can hear a pin drop

As the mouths fall open

I am that woman

 

When the wives tut

And girlfriend’s whisper

And men’s eyes undress

I am that woman

 

When a mouth is just another orifice

And conversing eye to eye

Is really eye to breast

I am that woman

 

I am the woman

Oozing sexual desire

I am the woman

Men and women picture naked

I am the woman

They all want to possess

 

When you are valued

For what’s between your legs

Than between your ears

I am that woman

 

When you are called a whore

And treated like a slut

Viewed like a piece of meat

I am that woman

 

They call me tart

They call me siren,

They call me temptress

They call me vamp

 

I want to be called sweetheart

I want to be called darling

I want to be called mum

 

I am the woman

Considered to be desirable

I am the woman

That oozes sexuality

I am the woman

Who can have any man she chooses

I am the woman

Who wants to be chosen

By a man who can see me!

STAND FOR THE KING

 

In Cumalot, Big King Dick

Really lived up to his name

In his kingdom he’d shagged

Every damsel and dame

 

Then one summer morning

With not a cloud in the skies

A terrible thing happened

King Dick failed to rise

 

His Royal Prince was limp

Rung out and pathetically flaccid

His mojo had deserted him

King Dicks libido was dead

 

He called the court physician

Who prepared him an elixir

He called the court sorcerer

Who prepared him a philtre

 

But when cure-all and love potion

Failed to raise the dead

They tried erotic love balms

And sexual salves instead

 

But when these proved nostrum

Failing to raise the dead

The King lost his temper

Ordering the removal of their heads

 

He sent for the Royal love-smiths

The most alluring in the land

The dangerously seductive,

Sultry temptresses took him in hand

 

When the Royal Dick was still limp

They tried something else

Kissing every erogenous point

But this failed to quicken his pulse

 

So, after he’d exhausted his supply

Of all his tarts and bints

He called for the Royal carpenter

To fashion him a splint

 

But this was no real solution

And it merely made him wince

Especially when he got a splinter

In his flaccid little Prince

 

He looked at dirty pictures

And he read erotic literature

He watched his soldiers shagging

He was so desperate for a cure

 

So, when everything had failed him

He took to his bed in disgust

Wouldn’t speak to his courtiers

He just reminisced of his lust

 

Then one day sickness was abroad

And he waited for breakfast in bed

Instead of his hot little maid

A mangy old crone came instead

 

He looked at the warty faced crone

Moving about to and fro

And King Dick felt the stirrings

Of the Royal Prince down below

 

He leapt out of bed and grabbed her

And quickly removed his nightgown

Then he bent the crone over a chair

And the little Prince was crowned

 

From that day on in the kingdom

No crone was safe from his lust

Dirty ugly and warty faced 

The Kings little Prince wasn’t fussed

PHILANDER

 

Flirtation and casual sexual affairs

“Playing away” that is to philander

No sexual conquest is too trivial

A quick blow job or a knee-trembler

DESPERATELY SEEKING TOTTIE

 

In bars and pubs

In joints and clubs

In bawdy brothels

And pervert chapels

In dens of iniquity

You seek promiscuity

Girls of easy virtue

Happy to insert you

WHY DO THEY CALL YOU PRUDISH JUDITH?

 

Hey Jude

I thought you were a prude

Hey Judith

I heard them call you prudish

Are you shy?

Is that the real reason why?

Hey Judith

Is that why they call you prudish?

But damn

When you’ve had a Babycham

Wow Jude

You are no goody two shoes

In fact, Jude

You are really rather crude

No prude

That I am forced to conclude

Jude, I think

That is why you have a drink

As a cure

From being modest and demure

And Jude

When you’re in the mood

To be lewd

You are exceptionally rude

With no prudity

In the manner of your nudity

So, Jude

I am forced to conclude

That Judith

Your prudishness is a myth