My Man Poem by Deborah Ashdown

My man has a shaved, shiny bald head.
A bum to die for, squishy, am dying to bed.
Only thing is when I mount his wobbly tum.
It's like mounting a water-bed.
But boy, do we have fun!

His fart is the best, knocks you for miles.
The smell so rancid, there's only him who smiles.
We cannot breath, we cannot speak.
The my god, there's his feet.
No man on earth could ever beat!

He smells, makes gruesome noises.
You can't but help love him, with his poises.
Doesn't matter what smells or noises you make.
You're my man, I love you for christs sake!