The Vicar's Laxative Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
The Vicar's Laxative
There once was a Vicar named Groon
he was raised with a true silver spoon.
And at bedtime he'd take
for his haemorrhoids' sake
a large dish of a stew made from prune.
When the sun said 'good night' to the moon
and arranged itself like a balloon
he would run to the loo
without further ado
and discharged juice of prune very soon.
Yes I do try to eat low-carb (staff of life) Also we are chronically short of staff. But, since I am the acting staff officer (Stabsoffizier) , they can all get staffed (stuffed?) Do you like Staffie dogs H
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 10:33:15 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I noticed that Germans have a thing about all things to to with discharge. I'm not suggesting a nation of copraphiliacs, I just vauguely recall some humour (and the Germans do have a sense of humour - Benny Hill aside) on the subject when I lived there for a while. Still this is very crude and funny. For me it is doubly so, as I find the use of the term Vicar to be a slight dig at the traditional English humour that relies on suggestion of something rather than blatentcy. But that's me I guess!