Poem.

[padi56]

Oh husband, dear husband, I tremble with fear;
You've been on overtime almost all year;
And since you are gone till way late at night,
A good piece of ars# seems way out of sight.

Oh husband, dear husband, please don't be a fool;
Working overtime is wasting your tool;
For better it is to be poor all your life,
Than bring a soft willy home to your wife;

I used to be happy as your little queen,
But now every night you're nowhere to be seen;
You come home from work just able to creep,
I feel like screwing, but you want to sleep.

Each evening, dear husband, you crawl into bed,
Your intentions are good, but your willy is dead;
I play with your pecker all wrinkled and dry,
I get so damn mad, I could lay down and cry.

I have pleaded with you dear, with tears in my eyes,
I've played with your balls, but your willy won't rise;
So I'll find me a man, who works eight hours a day,
And while you're at work, we'll proceed to make hay.

For in this whole world, there is only one sin,
For which there's no pardon, and never has been;
And that is a man, who is so foolish and mean,
That he gives up his screwing, to run a machine.