MY KNACKERS ARE KNACKERED
My knackers are knackered,So is the rest of l.
I look down on myself,
And feel I could cry.
Seeing the thing,
That hangs down between.
Remembering the places,
That it wishes it had been.
It used to be very polite,
I guess I should mention.
When a woman came into the room,
It always used to stand to attention.
It still comes out at sunlight,
But it's standings are weak.
It's nothing for me to shout about,
In fact it often leaks.
I've never taken Viagra,
Although I've often heard it said.
They give you one in care homes,
To stop you falling out of bed.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 1 time
Written on 2026-04-17 at 15:28
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
