Romancing The Stone Poem by Phil Soar

When mum and dad were dating
They had a favourite place
A place where copulating
Was a national disgrace

With couples lining up at night
To fornicate with glee
And leaving lots of condoms
Hanging from a nearby tree

That stone eroded, year on year
As couples lay upon it
And if they couldn't wait too long
They used the odd car bonnet

And now a plaque has marked the spot
Where children were created
Who knows how many couples there
Have ended up related?