This Bastard's Calverley

This Bastard’s Calverley

When in the Wells, there lies no pleasure,
The sights and sounds prove of little leisure.
In every dark, damp alley, every secreted store,
Reside the putrid abodes of ten thousand whores.
One night I did venture into Calverley Park,
To both cool my head and inflame my heart,
Yet the very land upon which I did stride,
Sinful and degrading secrets did hide.
Though fog set in to bat my eager eyes,
Tearful devotchkas didst swarm like flies
From the core of the park in which I amble,
Those screaming cunts from there did scramble.
My mind was set to find the wretched cause
Which struck fear, hysteria and terror in these whores.
And now I see under the park’s misty shades,
Are buggeries, rapes and perversions made.
The mass of people resembled a repulsive sphere,
Was there a single inhabitant who was not romping here?
Lawyers, teachers, commuters, guards,
Are all involved in the sick charade,
Builders, even childers, barely of age,
All are present in this vicious cabaret,
Clergymen, respected well, do here arrive,
I watch how promiscuously they do here swive,
From royalty, great Lords, poets and tailors,
To junkies, Goths, Jesuits and jailers,
The sick, tansexuals, whores and their pimps,
Which inglorious bastard could provide for these nymphs?
All those involved do not care for consequence,
And their actions hold no need for repentance,
From missionary, to sodomy, from the prick to the mouth,
Just some of the wonders that from the naval lie south.
Though through this most unusual dissipation
Of all the malicious cunts of our very own nation,
Through all the mist of this most obscene runt,
My eyes did come to rest upon this wandering cunt,
Her blonde hair, blue eyes, expression averted,
Ambling heedlessly through this commune of perverted.
I approach this young girl, not much older than I,
And slowly do slide my hand up her thigh.
Her eyes flash emerald, the colour of light,
She knows that she is to have the fuck of her life.
Coming down to lie upon a hacked-down tree-stump,
My hand comes to rest upon her neatly-kept cunt.
Throughout the entire park can orgasm be heard,
O what opportunities for even the lowliest bastard to flirt!
I pressure this vulva into climaxing down south,
Then slowly I bring those very fingers to mouth.
And after more of making her come at last,
I reach into my trousers and unleash the pikestaff.
With one last glance at the orgies around,
I enter this cunt without making a sound.
With drink and pleasure, possibly some rag,
Who gave a fuck whom you did choose to shag?
Homosexuals, transsexuals, the bilinguals of sex,
All fit in, here transfixed in this hex.
And after ‘tis over, there is no regretful discourse,
Of who had fucked who, and who had done worse.
And may no woman better thrive,
That dares profane the cunt I swive!