There was a young cyclist named Rex
Who really was quite a perplex
He always got lost
No matter how often he cycled
Cause he never knew which way was the next
There was a young girl of Cape Cod
Who thought babies were fashioned by God
, But ’twas not the Almighty Who hiked up her nightie –
‘Twas Roger, the lodger, by God!
There once was a chap from Khartoum,
who took a young man to his room.
They argued all night,
about who had the right,
to do what, and with which, and to whom.
A whale named Drew needed a break,
So he swam off to a distant lake.
But when he arrived there,
He realized with despair
That it was, alas, an inland fake!
There once was a CC'er from York
Who always ate venison or pork
A vegan he met with by chance
Told him with that diet you'll never advance
"so you need to start eating some weeds you dork"
There was a young man who loved kilts
He walked around atop stilts
But a gust of chilled air
Made it to cold to bear
So he changed his garb for some quilts.
Reynard's a Cambridgeshire lass,
When cycling she gives it some gas
Her bright red machines
Are all powered by beans
With a soundtrack that's purely first class
A young lady from Wicken Bonhunt
Planted cannabis seeds in her <you know perfectly well>
"My Lord!" said her gynae,
"This place is so tiny
There's scarcely enough for one blunt!"
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