Oh Joy, Oh Great Heavens Above,
How I like to lingeringly slaver o'er
The fartleberries hanging humunguously
Out of your **** cleft like bunches of mouldering grapes,
And to gaze upon the lusciously stale shitstains
Decorating your hirsute ****-cheeks!
You so rarely wash and your dumps are omnipotent
And you are too mean to buy any **** wipes.

You moan quite loudly in colonic ecstacy
As I plumb the Stygian depths of your sit-upon place,
My nose diving daintily like a woodpecker's beak
Smeared with poo-bits, seeking Nirvana
In your ****** paradise, brown love-tunnel
Serenaded by the poets since Time began!
Nowhere in all the Hershey Universe can there be
A pongier rimmee than you, O unshaven beauty of mine!

My probing tongue is covered with nutty brown paste,
Your sweet excremental delight makes me drool
In joy, as I personhandle myself "down there";
Ignoring the most elemental rules of hygiene.
But sadly there is a fly in the ointment
Indeed a whole ******* barrelful of them:
Not only will I get a very nasty E-coli infection
But I'll have bad breath tomorrow at chapel.

This poem has a message....


                                       F
                            u        ck         o
                          f            f             F
                        u             ck           O
                       f              f                F
                      u        ­      ck               o
                      f                f­                 F
                       u              ck               o
                         f             f                F
                          u           ck      ­      o
                            f           F           u
                              c        k          o­
                                        ff
                     ­                   F
                                        U
  ­                                      C
                         ­               K
                                        F
      ­                                  A
                             ­           C
                                        E
          ­                               !

A famous "Barry Hodges" poem!

I was strolling along the Normandy beaches
In the close vicinity of Caen one day
With a very tasty piece of arm-candy to hand
When I found a bleached human femur on the beach.
Oh dear me, what thoughts this conjured up in my brain
As I imagined whose bone it might have been!
Perhaps some pathetic soldier boy landing in forty-four
Who got slotted by a gallant German gunner,
His eyes feasting on the sacrificial cannon fodder
So foolishly supplied for his target practice.

Then, as I grabbed my lady friend's juicy ****,
Causing her to turn and sink her tongue into my earhole,
We sank onto the sands in order to sate our lusts,
(enflamed by a very delicious meal of *moules marinières
and a bucket or two of well-chilled Muscadet sur Lie)
I thought, what the **** does it all matter?
This is now, and that was then, and this old world
Has become a much nicer place nowadays;
But how mistaken I was in that fond thought;
Oh what an idealist I am in a world of woe.

For, all of a sudden, a contingent of fat dwarfs appeared,
Totally naked apart from their luminous Uncle Sam hats
And the Stars and Stripes hanging from their arseholes;
How I marvelled at their disgusting shapes
(and how surprised was I to find their genitals
were of normal measurements and thus
rather intrusively large by comparison
with the rest of their miniature bodies).
O dear Lord and alleged Father of Mankind
Forgive their horrid ways verily and forsooth.

With a whoop, those demented military retards, [see note below]
The famous 118th battalion ****** Marine veterans,
A contingent of whom emerged from a portable toilet
(which must have been a bit of a tight squeeze),
Chopped my girl-friend up with their bayonets,
Whereupon I crapped myself in terror and pity,
Before retrieving the purse from the eviscerated corpse,
Realizing that her PIN number was still useable
Until 'les flics' discovered her unfortunate remains
After the shore ***** had partaken thereof.

A Barry Hodges poem by Edna*

I remember a girlfriend called Mary
Whose ***** was exceedingly hairy;
She came from Newcastle;
And the stench of her *******
Converted me into a fairy.

Thus I rejected your Glorias and Glendas
In frilly white bras and suspenders;
And sought sweet catharsis
From the nice juicy arses
Of poofters and other gay benders.

Redemption came to me from Millie:
A big girl, a well-padded filly;
She was just a Geordie
And really quite ******
But her **** smelled as sweet as a lily.

Spiritual hope is in my pleading soul
Until the wondrous Rapture comes!
Christ be in my futile heart
Kindly looking down on me!
O** Lord how I earnestly beg of you,
Fearful and worthless creature that I am,
Forgive me as I grovel before Thy Cross!

Cleanse me please of sin dearest Lord,
Help me to know my own faults,
Raise me from the dust and dirt
Into which I am condemned to lie!
Slake my thirst for Holy Truth,
The Truth which only Thou can bring!

Only Thou, O great Lord, our Hope,
No one else can save the world,
Thou great Savio[u]r up above
Hearken unto our weedy and feeble cries!
Everlasting life is what you bring,
Crucified for us on Calvary
Royal and Holy Hill of Death,
Our only hope of Salvation!
Save us O mighty sweetest Lord,
Save us this coming Eastertide!

All must fall down on their knees,
Not forgetting to confess our sins
Devoutly worshipping the Lord's
Saving grace in this wicked world
Wherein we must toil and strive,
And at the last we must come face to face
Loving you, O great Lord!
Let Thy holy words filter down
On us like humble Easter Eggs,
World without end in thy embrace!

How can we dare to approach Thee
In the knowledege we are hopeless sinners,
Sinful filth from the days of Adam and Eve?
Sweet blessings we beg of Thee,
Prayers we send up to Heaven like emails!
Unless we confess and beg forgiveness
No one may be saved for the
Kingdom eternal in the sky!

Yea, please do not crush us to atoms
Underfoot as we grovel in the dust
Mutely offering up our anthems to Thee!

Yet another in my "Barry Hodges" series

O what a beautiful city is baroque and unspoiled Vilnius,
A veritable rose in the greyness of Eastern Europe,
And a centre of fierce Lithuanian pride and nationalism
Where loathing of Russia comes as part of the national tapestry,
Woven into the heart and soul of each true descendant of Gediminas:
"Tik geras rusų yra miręs rusų!"[note 1]  my Litvak lady love would cry out
In moments of extreme and poetic ******* excitement,
As she farted tunefully through purple quilted haemorrhoids.

O dearest delightful Vilnius, where my obsessive adoration
Of this rather plump but still juicy middle-aged lady
Went unrequited when she was sober, despite the perpetual onslaught
Of my tenderly whispered syllables of love and lust,
Even when my mispronounced tirade of affirmations of desire
Rose to a pointless crescendo, wasted on the midnight hour,
As she shrieked: *"Lietuvių valytojoms yra geriausias pasaulyje!" [note 2],
In a desperate attempt to retain her composure post-******.

O how can I ever forget her egregiously insatiable ****** appetite or
Her immense cantilevered ***** whose glorious silhouette
I can still recall in the silvery moonlight shining through
The toilet window, as I peeped at her through the keyhole,
Watching her wipe between her gorgeous silken ****-cheeks,
With an improvised corner of the unfurled bathroom curtain,
Mysteriously muttering "Jei nėra silkių nereikia valgyti!" [note 3]
As she reviewed the remains of half-digested Cepelinai [note 4]

O woe! All is now finished and dear overweight Valerija is lost to me,
Having fallen drunkenly down an open manhole on Pilies one evening,
And I am left alone to wetly kiss the cryptic letter she left for me,
Staring sadly at the tear-stained smudged ink of her illiterate scrawls.
Yea, mate, her last words of warning and patriotic exhultation were:
"Jei jūsų kūdikis turi imbiero plaukus, mesti jį į upę!" [note 5]
Followed by "Valio už Lietuvos Vermachto karo didvyrių!" [note 6]
And I think they were probably the sanest things she ever said.

Part of Edna's "Barry Hodges' Sad Recollections" Sequence*

People think that Brussels is an interesting city,
Full of beer, full of mussels and pommes frites
And easy to buy a really nice box of chocolates
(Personally I prefer the dark ******* as they are less sweet).
But there is another side to the city
Believe me, I know, I have been there
And I have seen it in all its shocking terror.

I was there, just off la Grand' Place (Grotemarkt in Flemish),
With my younger sister, a fat and ugly girl,
Who had a very pronounced lisp and a lot of oozing ****** spots,
When a gang of ill-dressed American youths,
Probably the sons of wealthy businessmen or diplomats,
Sky-high on coca-cola, or whatever vile filth,
Attacked us, mugged us, gave us a total bashing-up,
And we ran quite hard but could not escape from them.

And they left her lying there in the gutter,
Her legs broken to bits and her head half-chopped off,
And for what? They were envious of her false hairpiece
(as it made her look half-human, a major improvement).
She dragged out a miserable half-alive existence
For a few awful months in a dilapidated infirmary;
Dear God, she will not be going to Brussels again
In fact she will not be going anywhere at all,
Apart from into an early grave, that is.