Limericks For Ted S. Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

In her winter of discontent
she could sense where her destiny went.
She tatooed on her skin
a mad Kraut with a grin
and inside they installed a big stent.

Come inside, said the maiden, yes, YOU,
You are mine for this rendez-vous.
So his down under head
pinned her clear to the bed
but her entrance was just a tatoo.

He inspected the part with his glasses,
then made Mesmer-like ritual passes.
And the flesh quickly parted
(I am sorry she farted)
and his trance was all caused by the gases.

When he woke she was working his member,
it had grown from the status of ember.
Then she went to the loo
with her feline tatoo
all this happened in early December.

Since you asked, a tatoo can be fake,
can suggest the idea of a cake.
But most men want to cheat
as to keep and to eat
it's the woman who's baking the cake.

Should you be, by this story confused,
should your ego be (men only) bruised,
Let me say, a tatoo
stops the wankers like you
and the ladies will NOT be abused.

Just some fun for the poet named Ted.
Who reminds me of Kelly's own Ned*
And a caution to add
you must surely be mad
double-dip in the ink - you are dead.