🚀 go-pugleaf

		       Great Hairy Wombat's Chant
			  To His Old Lady Love

	Fatter than Buddha, older than Israel, poorer than dirt, wiser
than the river and stronger than the Sun in Texas at high noon on the
Fourth of July, I am rubbing my belly and thinking on you, my dove, in
these wee hours alone with all the e-world in my palace cell high enough
above the main crossing. 

			   Advice to the Young

	A stiff dick, Mother Nature's noblest ikon, finds his only happy
home in a hot pussy. Be it from across galaxies, he must come to her. All
the other tools which we jointly devise, from the first wheel to Voyager
to the Internet and way beyond them, serve only as so much honor bright
tinsel with which we decorate the evergreen tree of love. 

			    Back to You, Babe

			     I need a woman,
			     You need a man,
			     So let's get together
			     And do it while we can!

			     Take a wife, get a life!
			     That last we've done before,
			     Will we do it yet again?
			     To miss our last chance
			     Would sure be a sin.

			     Our daughters want brothers
			     Or something like that.
			     As long as you're pretty,
			     Who cares dat'am fat ?
			     Now I pops de question,
			     Will moms be de answer?

			     Konfunkshun say, to improve
			     Yo' chances of being a granny,
			     Get pregnant today, ofay, 
			     On top o' yo' manny.
			     
	  		     Or at least call me ASAP.
		  	     We'll put RaPP on de map
			     Between I-rock and de hard place.
			     Bringing it back to grace in glory
			     Points right to the moral of our story.

			     Some words have beats
			     Lak frogs do croaks.
			     As Brer Rabbit say,
			     Dat's all, folks !

			     'Ceptin' for all dem swamp eyes
			     Out dere watching you, Missy.
			     Come on, Sweet Cow,
		 	     Will you gimme a kissy ?
				
			     Fall down de night,
			     Turn on delight.
			     Since we done took our time,
			     We betta do it,  right ?

 -----------------------------------------------------------

	Fellow sez that spiking BJ's ball in the big game last Saturday
saved ten thousand lives over there. Must have been good lyrics, 'cause
the censor man done come on the Net to try to hide 'em. Yep, he made his
debut. Phew, I say, phew! The aich be silent, but Hal's still talking.
	Was that spammy, Mammy, or should we say just _spamebushi_ for
"Spare me the bullshit !" Dem grabby, strangling critters from the New
York TIMES, CBS, the spies and spooks be loose on deck now and time to
repell 'em.
	The honor of the highest praise that the poet's tongue can utter 
in ceremonies of celebration pales before the glory of righteous combat
in which the spite of the wicked strikes sparks from the armor of truth
worn by the hero as he fights to defend the lives of the innocent, if I
do say so meself. And Bravo, Ramsey, too !