Grapes of Wrath

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It came to pass that my bum turned to farce,

A horrid soreness had came bulging through,

At first unsure, I did not have a clue

About the grapes now glowing from my arse.


It came to pass that ideal idea shone,

And cost of treatment would be just some pence,

No reason now to sit astride the fence

When cured I could be soon with problem gone.


It came to pass that cream, in its small tube,

Was greasy and had odour of its own,

Though dosed with this the tissue stayed full-blown,

This makes these words of wrath come out quite crude.


It came to pass that I now owned bum-balls,

Not quite the size as those hung at the front,

Though haemorrhoids is right and piles so blunt,

My tender bottom line swears at all stools.



◄ Foot of Snow

Gone ►


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M.C. Newberry

Fri 25th Jan 2013 12:40

Piles of fun!
I recall when walking wild places years ago, a fellow walker warning against sitting on damp and cold places for fear of that affliction.
I took the advice. So far, so good!

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Lady Ha Ha

Thu 24th Jan 2013 18:28

Is this a body part poem? I guessed it immediately! I think the picture helped. Its' very rude but funny :)

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