There once was a fruitcake named Onk
who sat in the loo at St. Bonk.
Where she farted and shat
on the bishop's own mat
they declared her a smelly old donk.
She had been from the premises chased.
And her memory duly erased
she's both chicken and shit
with no obvious tit
and on septic cadaver she's based.
If she stays I will ring her dumb bell
as she is but an empty old shell
an AK-forty-seven
will send her to heaven
thye will scatter her straight down to hell.
Hmmmmm.........I agree with Raynette.....but I think I know where this came from...
Some 'people' bring out the very best in me Raynette. Onken is one of those. H
Oh Herbert! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! I liked yesterday's love poem so much better! Raynette
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Mahnaz and Raynette, it comes from an incident a few months ago where Onken, ostensibly through faulty information supplied by others, accused me publicly of things that she then found out were entirely untrue. When challenged to apologise and/or make a public retraction she bolted and hid in her manure pile. She is not big enough to stand on her own feet and own up to her own (mis) deeds. That makes her, in my book, the ideal companion for the scumbags of this world. She has no place on this site.If I had to salut her I would forget the 'a' but even that status is most likely unattainable for her. H H