# The Pearl/Erotic limericks

* related portals: Erotic poetry, Limericks.
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Published in The Pearl
There was a young lady of Harrow. Who complained that her Cunt was too narrow, For times without number She would use a cucumber, But could not accomplish a marrow.
There was a young lady of Glasgow, And fondly her lover did ask, "Oh, Pray allow me a fuck," But she said, "No, my duck, But you may, if you please, up my arse go."
There was a young man had the art Of making a capital tart, With a handful of shit, Some snot and a spit, And he'd flavor the whole with a fart.
There was an old man of Connaught. Whose prick was remarkably short, When he got into bed The old woman said, "This isn't a prick, it's a wart."
There was a gay Countess of Bray, And you may think it odd when I say, That in spite of high station, Rank and education, She always spelt Cunt with a K.
There was an old parson of Lundy, Fell asleep in his vestry on Sunday; He awoke with a scream, "What, another wet dream, This comes of not frigging since Monday."
There was a strong man of Drumrig, Who one day did seven times frig; He buggered three Sailors, Four Jews and two Tailors, And ended by fucking a pig.
There was an Old Man of the Mountain. Who frigged himself into a fountain, Fifteen times had he spent. Still he wasn't content. He simply got tired of the counting.
There was a young man of Nantucket. Who went down a well in a bucket; The last words he spoke. Before the rope broke, Were, "Arsehole, you bugger, and suck it."
A native of Havre de Grace Once tired of Cunt, said "I'll try arse." He unfolded his plan To another young man, Who said, "Most decidedly, my arse!"
There was a young man of Calcutta Who thought he would do a smart trick; So anointed his arsehole with butter. And in it inserted his prick.
It was not for greed after gold; It was not for thirst after pelf; 'Twas simply because he'd been told To bloody well bugger himself.
There was a young lass of Dalkeith, Who frigged a young man with her teeth; She complained that he stunk; Not so much from the spunk; But his arsehole was just underneath.
There was a gay parson of Norton, Whose prick, although thick, was a short 'un; To make up for this loss, He had balls like a horse. And never spent less than a quartern.
There was a young man of the Tweed. Who sucked his wife's arse thro' a reed; When she had diarrhoea. He'd let none come near. For fear they should poach on his feed.
There was an old man of Balbriggan, Who cunt juice was frequently swigging; But even to this. He preferred tom-cat's piss, Which he kept a pox'd nigger to frig in.
A cabman who drove in Biarritz, Once frightened a fare into fits; When reprov'd for a fart, He said, "God bless my heart When I break wind I usually shits."
A young woman got married at Chester. Her mother she kissed and she blessed her. Says she, "You're in luck, He's a stunning good fuck. For I've had himself myself down in Leicester.
There was a young bride of Antigua, Whose husband had said: "Dear me, how big you are!" Said the girl: "What damn'd rot, Why, you've often felt my twot, My legs and my arse and my figua!"
There once was a young man of Bulgaria, Who once went to piss down an area, Said Mary to cook: "Oh, do come and look, Did you ever see anything hairier?"