As I am feeling incredibly ill today (cue sympathetic sigh) I shall let that most revered of anonymous poets do the talking for me.
If you have not read it before, then please, spend the next 5 minutes enjoying the filthiest poem I have ever read.
Phil Brown
Poetry Editor
Eskimo Nell
Authorship unknown
| When a man grows old and his balls grow cold And the end of his knob turns blue, When it's bent in the middle like a one-string fiddle, He can tell a tale or two. So find me a seat and stand me a drink And a tale to you I'll tell, Of Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete, And the gentle Eskimo Nell. When Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete Go out in search of fun, It's Dead-Eye Dick who wields the prick And Mexican Pete the gun. And when Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete Are sore depressed and mad, 'Tis mostly cunt that bears the brunt, So the shooting ain't so bad. Now Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete Had been hunting in Dead Man's Creek, And they'd had no luck in the way of a fuck For nigh on half a week. Just a moose or two, a caribou, And a bison cow or so, And for Dead-Eye Dick with his kingly prick This fucking was mighty slow. So do or dare this horny pair Set out for the Rio Grande, Dead-Eye Dick with his muscular prick And Pete with his gun in hand. They blazed away on their randy way, No man their fire withstood, And many a bride who was hubby's pride Knew pregnant widowhood. They made the strand of the Rio Grande At the height of a blazing noon, And to slake their thirst and do their worst They sought Black Mike's saloon. As they crashed their way through the big swing doors Both prick and gun flashed free, "According to sex, you bleeding wrecks You drinks or fucks with me." Now they knew this trick of Dead-Eye Dick From the Horn to Panama, And with nothing worse than a muttered curse Those cowhands sought the bar. The women too knew his playful ways Down on the Rio Grande, And forty whores took down their draws At Dead-Eye Dick's command. They saw the fingers of Mexican Pete Twitch on the trigger grip, 'Twas death to wait, at a fearful rate Those whores began to strip. Now Dead-Eye Dick was breathing quick With lecherous snorts and grunts, As forty arses were bared to view To say nothing of forty cunts. Now forty arses and forty cunts You'll see if you use your wits And rattle a bit at arithmetic – That's likewise eighty tits. And eighty tits is a gladsome sight For a man with a raging stand, They may be rare in Berkeley Square, But not on the Rio Grande. Now Dead-Eye Dick had fucked a few The last preceding night, But this he had done by way of fun Just to whet his appetite. His phallic limb was in fighting trim So he backed and took a run: He made a dart at the nearest tart And scored a bull in one. He bore her to the sandy floor And fucked her deep and fine, And although she grinned it put the wind Up the other thirty-nine. Now Dead-Eye Dick he fucks 'em quick, And flinging the first aside, He was making a jump at the second cunt When the swing doors opened wide. And into that hall of sin and vice – Into that harlot's hell Strode a gentle maid who was unafraid, Her name was Eskimo Nell. Now Dead-Eye Dick had got his prick Well into number two When Eskimo Nell let out a yell And shouted "Hey there, you!" He gave a flick of his mighty prick, And the tart flew over his head, He turned about with a snarling shout, Both eyes and knob were red. With a lustful leer he said "Look here Just get into the queue, I've got to mate with thirty-eight Before I get to you." But Eskimo Nell she stood it well And looked him in the eyes, With the utmost scorn she glimpsed the horn That rose from his hairy thighs. She blew a puff from her cigarette Onto his steaming knob, So utterly beat was Mexican Pete He forgot to do his job. Eskimo Nell then broke the spell In accents calm and cool: "You cunt-struck shrimp of a yankee pimp It's Eskimo Nell's not yours." She shed her garments one by one With an air of conscious pride, And as she stood in her womanhood, They saw the great divide. She laid right down on the table top Where someone had laid a glass, With a twitch of her tits she crushed it to bits Between the cheeks of her arse. She bent her knees with supple ease And opened her legs apart, With a final nod to the randy sod She gave him the cue to start. Now Dead-Eye Dick knew another trick And meant to save his powers, For if he'd a mind he could stand a grind For a couple of solid hours. So Dead-Eye Dick with his king of a prick Prepared to take his time, For a girl like this was fucking bliss So he staged a pantomime. He winked his arsehole in and out And made his balls inflate, Till they looked like a couple of granite globes On top of a garden gate. He rubbed his foreskin up and down, His knob increased in size, His mighty prick grew twice as thick And almost reached his eyes. He polished his knob with rum and gob To make it steaming hot, And to finish the job he sprinkled his knob With a cayenne pepper pot. He didn't back to take a run, Nor yet a flying leap, He didn't swoop but seemed to stoop And advanced with a steady creep. Then he took a sight as a gunman might Along his mighty tool, And shoved his lust with a dextrous thrust – Firm, calculating and cool. Have you ever seen the pistons On a giant C.P.R. With a driving force of a thousand horse, Then you know what pistons are. Or you think you do, but you've yet to learn The awe-inspiring trick, Of the work that's done on a non-stop run By a man like Dead-Eye Dick. But Eskimo Nell was an infidel, With a really tough construction With the strength of ten in her abdomen And a paralysing suction. Amidships she could stand the rush Like the flush of a water closet, So she grasped his cock like a Chatwood lock On a national safe deposit. She lay for a while with a subtle smile While the grip of her cunt grew keener, Then giving a sigh she sucked him dry With the ease of a vacuum cleaner. She performed this feat in a way so neat As to set at complete defiance The primary cause and the basic laws That govern sexual science. She calmly rode through the phallic code That for years had stood the test, And the ancient rule of the classic school In a moment or two went west. And now my friend, we draw to an end Of the copulating epic, The effect on Dick was sudden and quick And akin to anaesthetic. He slipped to the floor and knew no more His passions extinct and dead He didn't shout as his tool came out It was stripped down to a thread. Mexican Pete he sprang to his feet, To avenge his pal's affront, With a fearful jolt he drew his colt And rammed it up her cunt. He shoved it up to the trigger grip And fired two times three, But to his surprise she rolled her eyes And smiled in ecstasy. She leaped to her feet with a smile so sweet, "Bully for you" she cried, "That pistol shot was the best of the lot, At last I'm satisfied." "I thought you jerks could give me the works" She said in accents cool, "But I guess I must go to the land of the snow To find a man with a tool. "I'm going back to the frozen north, To a land where spunk is spunk, Not a turgid stream of lukewarm cream But a solid frozen chunk. "Back to the land where they understand What it means to fornicate, Where even the dead sleep two in a bed And the infants copulate. "Back to the land of the mighty stand, Where the nights are six months long, Where the polar bear wanks in his lair, That's where they'll sing this song. "They'll tell this tale on the artic trail Where the nights are sixty below, Where it's so damn cold, French letters are sold Wrapped in a ball of snow. "In the valley of death with baited breath It's there we'll sing it too, Where the skeletons rattle in sexual battle And the mouldering corpses screw. "So when next your friend and you intend To sally forth for fun, Buy Dead-Eye Dick a sugar stick And get yourself a bun." 'I'm going back to the frozen north, where the pricks are hard and strong: 'back to the land of the all-night stand- where the nights are six months long. 'Where you get it in bits as hard as tin in the land where spunk is spunk- 'Not a trickling stream of lukewarm cream, but a solid frozen chunk. 'Back to the land where they understand what it is to copulate; 'Where even the dead lie two in a bed and the infants masturbate. And there I’ll spend a worthy end for the North is calling me, And good luck and a fuck is all I ask from the fate befalling me. |
