Boot+Kitty=Poetry in motion
The Sailor's Dream
"He's just a dirty sailor," he heard the women say,
As he struggled with his seabag and proceeded
on his way.
Tis true he hadn't bathed in a fortnight, maybe more,
And flies refused to land on the filthy clothes he wore.
But he was still convinced there was a woman made for he,
A woman who loved old sailors regardless of the breeze.
So he kept his sextant ready and laid in a steady course,
For her waiting thighs and breasts on some distant shore.
She would be his soulmate, never having had a
A lovely complement to the all the fragrances' he had.
They'd sit in the finest restaurants, and sip the finest wine,
Before they'd be requested to dine out with the swine.
She'd wipe her nose on her sleeve whenever her nose ran,
And rub her hands on her chest to make them clean again.
She'd be pretty as she sat with her knees held far apart,
Oh, she'd be the envy of every eye, this maiden of his heart.
I know what you are thinking as you hold your noses high,
This isn't the kind of woman who could make a sailor sigh.
But you haven't seen a sailor who has given up the sea,
To become a college professor, like old Toerag be.
For those of you who don't know him, Toerag really is ALL CLASS, and a good friend. Look for him in here.
[This message has been edited by LngJhnAg (edited 07-29-99).]