Father Paul Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Father Paul, an aging priest
was invited to a feast
in the village by a peasant.
It would be, he thought, quite pleasant.

But the peasant had a maid
who was itching to get laid,
put her horny bedroom eyes
on him, she liked older guys.

Father Paul ignored the maiden,
later though was liquor-laden.
Maid brought him another scotch,
put her foot inside his crotch.

This was happening below
tablecloth, far from the show,
no one saw how Father Paul
grew a big and rather tall

monster he had never known.
Lord, it was as hard as bone.
Lucky, though, he wore a toga
and he practised, daily, yoga.

So, he bent his member back
get away from her attack.
It was time to bid good-bye
he would skip the apple pie.

Up he got on shaky feet
quick, the maid did flash her teat
but he carried it behind
where it would be hard to find.

Father Paul now thanked the peasant
for the wonderfully pleasant
dinner, when the peasant said
'Did you have this toga made

in the fabric shop in town?
It is ONE good-looking gown.
Though there seems to be a lump,
could it be a hunchback's hump?