There once was a hare named Tripod,
Who always gave the wankers a nod.
She was blonde and hot
And still pretty taut,
But by the end of night she smelled of old cod.
The wankers convened at the Roadhouse,
Where even Angry Inch was not thought a louse.
But when Tripod hares,
And we set off hoping a bimbo would lose her blouse.
We followed her short trail of flour,
For those faint little marks we had to scour.
But when the ship passed,
We showed them our ass
And on no one’s face was there a glower.
We got to the On-In quite early,
But with a beer in hand, no one was surly.
We drank and we drank,
And measured our wanks,
And Can’t Finish showed us his curlies.
Your smelly scribe,
Romancing the Bone
Friday: TGIF at the Muddy Rudder
Saturday: Scotum Rotor does the Oregon
Sunday: Cockbroker and Dibble Dick do the Full Moon at the Willamette Greenway, COMBAT HASH!
Monday: Cums Prepared does the Kahuna
Wednesday: Bunghole Cowboy and Bitch Tits do the Hump at Powell Butt Park
Thursday: Crackup does the No Name!