Boys With Toys Poem by Francie Lynch

Boys With Toys


Way back then,
When we were
Post-pubescent
Boys,
We sat in a circle,
Not a jerk ring,
And rhymed our things
Like this:

You make my cock rock; (1970's and solid rock)
You make my thing sing; (Beach Boys)
You make my dink stink;
You make my log throb; (Canada, eh!)
You make my stick thick; (or dick thick, but no repeating rhymes)
You make my chub rub;
You make my schlong long; (all-inclusive)
You make my stump jump; (Canada again)
You make my pole roll; (the uncircumcised)
You make my wiener leaner; (all sizes accepted)
You make my bone moan; (Crooners all)
You make my man stand; (wishful boys)
You make my limp primp;
You make my rod applaud;
You make my spear smear; (Yuk!)
You make my peter sweeter; (all-inclusive)
You make my head undead... (we had a Sir Graves Ghastly fan amongst us)

And all in unison:

You make my hard on.

We'd continue with our lines,
Til the case was as empty
As our rhymes.
Them there days of simple joys,
Post pubescent
Boys with toys.