Humor
Smell of a Virgin
“Walter steadies himself and butts
In almost burying his nuts,
And with such vigor plays his part
That from her ass comes a large fart.” […]
Poetry
Britons and Celts
Dangerous at any Time
“Wallace unmov’d, the impetuous shock sustains,
And awful joy his gloomy brow serenes.
Straight rising to the blow, he aim’d a wound,
And brought his enemy stagg’ring to the ground.” […]
Humor
Sex Lives of the French Bourgeoise
Cavorting lustily at play.
She, pleased with the festivities,
Said to the doing fellow, “Please,
Let’s think up names to give my dear,
To your thing there and my cunt here.” […]
Britons and Celts
A Beast in Battle
“The youthful captain of the Scot in ire,
Us’d to the wars, exerts his glorious fire,
Runs through the crowd, mows them down like grass,
Whilst he invulnerable stands like brass.” […]
Human Affairs
The Real Housewives of Medieval France
“What? I in love?” he tells her. “Hardly!
I find your jealousy ungodly.
I’m nearly dead from making love,
And this is all you’re thinking of!” […]
Britons and Celts
Torn Between Love and Duty
“While Scotland weeps, weeps out her dearest blood,
And floats to ruin down the crimson flood.
Th’ important now, decides her future state;
And see! The scales are hung to weigh her fate.” […]
Humor
A Pussy for a Birdie
–“What are you asking for it, tell?”
–“My lady, for a fuck it’s yours.”
–“Saint Peter help me now, because
I haven’t any fuck to trade!” […]
Britons and Celts
Romance of a Scottish Legend
“The lovers met, and now a modest kiss
Lifts up the hero’s soul to laughing bliss.
Love feels the alarm, starts up in fond surprise,
And through his veins anew impetuous flies,
Inflames his soul, and sparkles through his eyes.” […]
Humor
The Power of a Fart
“The imp came to the gates of Hell
Toting both bag and fart as well,
And tossing the bag down when he entered,
And thereupon the fart was vented.” […]
Britons and Celts
A Song of Slaughter
“Graham sought the haughty chief. And now on high,
His sword that flam’d and lighten’d in the sky,
With whirlwind sound descends, and cleaves his head:
No force of motion could the stroke impede.
The yawning chasm well’d out a purple flood;
Forth rush’d the soul effus’d with with gushing blood.” […]