Freebsd Limericks

There was an old man of Brienz
The length of whose cock was immense:
        With one swerve he could plug
        A boy's bottom in Zug,
And a kitchen-maid's cunt in Coblenz.

There was an old man of Cajon
Who never could get a good bone.
        With the aid of a gland
        It grew simply grand;
Now his wife cannot leave it alone.

There was an old man of Calcutta
Who spied through a chink in the shutter.
        But all he could see
        Was his wife's bare knee,
And the back of the bloke who was up her.

There was an old man of Connaught
Whose prick was remarkably short.
        When he got into bed,
        The old woman said,
"This isn't a prick, it's a wart."

There was an old man of Duddee
Who came home as drunk as could be.
        He wound up the clock
        With the end of his cock,
And buggered his wife with the key.

There was an old man of Duluth
Whose cock was shot off in his youth.
        He fucked with his nose
        And with fingers and toes,
And he came through a hole in his tooth.

There was an old man of Hong Kong
Who never did anything wrong.
        He would lie on his back
        With his head in a sack
And secretly finger his dong.

There was an old man of St. Bees,
Who was stung in the arm by a wasp.
        When asked, "Does it hurt?"
        He relied, "No, it doesn't.
I'm so glad that it wasn't a hornet."

There was an old man of St. Bees,
Who was stung in the arm by a wasp.
        When asked, "Does it hurt?"
        He relied, "No, it doesn't.
I'm so glad that it wasn't a hornet."
                -- W.S. Gilbert

There was an old man of Tagore
Whose tool was a yard long or more,
        So he wore the damn thing
        In a surgical sling
To keep it from wiping the floor.