Snowdrops from a Curate’s Garden

[106] A SNATCH If clap were what the babe is And pox were like the cot. Our things would rub together ; We’d roger hell for leather Despite of gleet and tabes, Grey penis or green twat ; If clap were what the babe is And pox were like the cot. If I were what the turds are And love were like the arse. With double sound and single Delight our farts would mingle, With music filled as birds are That walk about the grass ; If I were what the turds arc And love were like the arse ! If you were crabs, my darling, And I your love a taenia ; We’d scratch and strain together My rubber and your leather Until we both were crazy (My stage and your proscenia) If you were crabs, my darling. And I your love a taenia. If you were thrall to chancre And I were page to piles. We’d play for boric acid Until we grew more placid.