Discussion in 'Blue Jokes' started by Skunkmiester, Jan 5, 2011.

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  1. Gather round all you whorey,
    Gather round and hear this story!

    When a man grows old and his balls grow cold,
    And the tip of his tool turns blue,
    And it bends in the middle
    Like a one-string fiddle,
    He can tell you a tale or two.

    So pull up a chair and stand me a drink
    And a tale to you I'll tell,
    Of Dead-eye Dick and Mexican Pete,
    And a harlot named Eskimo Nell.

    When Dead-eye Dick and Mexican Pete Go forth in search of fun,
    It's Dead-eye Dick that slings the prick,
    And Mexican Pete the gun.

    When Dead-eye Dick and Mexican Pete
    Are sore, depressed, and sad,
    It's always a cunt that bears the brunt,
    But the shootin' ain't so bad.

    Now Dead-eye Dick and Mexican Pete
    Lived down by Dead Man's Creek,
    And such was their luck they'd had no fuck
    For nigh on half a week.

    Just a moose or two and a caribou,
    And a bison cow or so,
    And for Dead-eye Dick with his kingly wick,
    The action was mighty slow.

    So do or dare this horny pair
    Set forth for the Rio Grande,
    Dead-eye Dick with his mighty prick,
    And Pete with his gun in his hand.

    And as they blazed their noisy trail
    No man their path withstood,
    And many a bride, her husband's pride,
    A pregnant widow stood.
    They reached the strand of the Rio Grande
    At the height of a blazing noon,
    And to slake their thirst and do their worst,
    They sought Black Mike's Saloon.

    And as they pushed the great doors wide
    Both prick and gun flashed free,
    "According to sex, you bleeding wrecks,
    You'll drink or fuck with me."

    They'd heard of the man called Dead-eye Dick,
    From Maine to Panama,
    And with scarcely worse than a muttered curse,
    Those dagos sought the bar.

    The girls too knew of his playful ways
    Down on the Rio Grande,
    So forty whores pulled down their drawers
    At Dead-eye Dick's command.

    They saw the fingers of Mexican Pete
    twitch on the trigger grip,
    And they didn't waitat a fearful rate,
    Those whores began to strip.

    Now Dead-eye Dick was breathing quick
    With lecherous snorts and grunts,
    Soon forty asses were bared to view,
    And likewise forty cunts.

    Now forty asses and forty cunts,
    If you can use your wits,
    And if you're slick at arithmetic,
    Makes exactly eighty tits.

    Now eighty tits are a gladsome sight
    For a man with a raging stand,
    It may be rare in Berkeley Square,
    But not on the Rio Grande.

    Now Dead-eye Dick had bungholed a few
    On the last preceding night,
    This he had done just to show his fun,
    And to whet his appetite.

    His phallic limb was in ramming trim
    As he backed and took a run,
    He made a dart at the nearest tart,
    And scored a hole in one.

    He bore her to the sawdust floor
    And there he swived her fine,
    And though she grinned it put the wind
    Up the other thirty-nine.

    When Dead-eye Dick lets loose his prick
    He's got no time to spare,
    For speed and length combined with strength,
    He fairly singes hair.

    He made a dart at the next spare tart,
    When into that harlot's hell
    Strode a gentle maid who was unafraid,
    And her name it was Eskimo Nell.

    By this time Dick had got his prick
    Well into number two,
    When Eskimo Nell let out a yell,
    She bawled to him, "Hey you!"

    He gave a flick of his muscular prick
    And the girl flew over his head,
    And he wheeled about with an angry shout,
    His face and his prick burning red.

    She stared our hero up and down,
    His looks she seemed to decry,
    With utter scorn she glimpsed the horn
    That rose from his hairy thigh.

    She blew the smoke from her cigarette
    Over his steaming knob,
    So utterly beat was Mexican Pete,
    He failed to do his job.

    It was Eskimo Nell who broke the spell,
    In accents clear and cool,
    "You cunt-struck shrimp of a Yankee pimp,
    You call that thing a tool?"

    "If this here town can't take that down,"
    She sneered to those cowering whores,
    "Here's one little cunt can do the stunt,
    It's Eskimo Nell's, not yours."

    She stripped her garments one by one
    With an air of conscious pride,
    And as she stood in her womanhood,
    They saw the great divide.

    She seated herself on a table top
    Where someone had left his glass,
    With a twitch of her tits she crushed it to bits,
    Between the cheeks of her ass.

    She flexed her knees with supple ease,
    And spread her legs apart,
    With a friendly nod to the mangy sod,
    She gave him the cue to start.

    But Dead-eye Dick knew a trick or two,
    He meant to take his time,
    And a girl like this was sexual bliss,
    So he played the pantomime.

    He flexed his buttocks to and fro
    And made his balls inflate,
    Until they looked like the granite knobs
    On top of a garden gate.

    He blew his anus inside out,
    His organ increased in size,
    His mighty prick grew twice as thick,
    Till it almost reached his eyes.

    He polished it up with alcohol
    And made it steaming hot,
    To finish the job he sprinkled the knob
    With a cayenne pepperpot.

    Then neither did he take a run
    Nor did he take a leap,
    Nor did he stoop, but took a swoop,
    And a steady forward creep.

    With piercing eye he took a sight
    Along his mighty tool,
    And the steady grin as he pushed it in,
    Was calculatedly cool.

    Have you seen the giant pistons
    On the mighty C.P.R.,
    With the driving force of a thousand horse,
    Well, you know what pistons are,

    Or you think you do. But you've yet to learn
    The ins and outs of the trick,
    Of the work that's done on a non-stop run
    By a guy like Dead-eye Dick.

    But Eskimo Nell was an infidel,
    As good as a whole harem,
    With the strength of ten in her abdomen,
    And the rock of ages between.

    She could take the stream of a lover's cream
    Like the flush of a water closet,
    And she gripped his cock like the Chatsworth lock
    On the National Safe Deposit.

    But Dead-eye Dick would not come quick,
    He meant to conserve his powers,
    If he'd a mind he'd grind and grind
    For a couple of solid hours.

    Nell lay for awhile and then with a smile,
    The grip of her twat grew keener,
    With a squeeze of her thigh she sucked him dry,
    Like a brand-new vacuum cleaner.

    She performed this trick in a way so slick
    As to set in complete defiance
    The basic cause and primary laws
    That govern sexual science.

    She calmly rode through the phallic code
    Which for years had stood the test,
    And the ancient rules of the classic schools,
    In a second or two went West.

    And so my friends we come to the end
    Of copulation's classic,
    The effect on Dick was sudden and quick,
    And akin to an anesthetic.

    He fell to the floor and knew no more,
    His passions extinct and dead,
    And he did not shout as his tool slipped out,
    Although it was stripped to a thread.

    Then Mexican Pete jumped to his feet
    To avenge his pal's affront,
    With a jarring jolt his blue-nosed Colt,
    He jammed it up her cunt.

    He rammed it up to the trigger grip
    And fired three times three,
    But to his surprise she closed her eyes
    And squealed in ecstasy.

    She jumped to her feet with a smile so sweet,
    "Bully," she said, "for you.
    Though I might have guessed that that was the best
    That you poor pussies could do."

    "When next, my friend, that you intend
    To sally forth for fun,
    Buy Dead-eye Dick a sugar stick,
    And yourself an elephant gun."

    "I'm going back to the frozen North,
    Where cocks are hard and strong,
    Back to the land of the frozen stand,
    Where the nights are six months long."

    "It's hard as tin when they put it in,
    In the land where spunk is spunk,
    Not a trickling stream of lukewarm cream,
    But a solid frozen chunk."

    "Back to the land where they understand
    What it means to fornicate,
    Where even the dead sleep two to a bed
    And the babies masturbate."

    "Back to the land of the grinding gland,
    Where the walrus plays with his prong,
    Where the polar bear wanks off in his lair,
    That's where they'll sing this song."

    "They'll tell this tale on the Arctic trail,
    Where the nights are sixty below,
    Where it's so damn cold that the Rubbers are sold
    Wrapped up in a ball of snow."

    "In the valley of death with bated breath
    That's where they'll sing it too,
    Where the skeletons rattle in sexual battle,
    And the rotting corpses screw."

    "Back to the land where men are men,
    Terra Bellicum.
    And there I'll spend my worthy end,
    For the North is calling, 'Come.'"

    So Dead-eye Dick and Mexican Pete
    Slunk out of the Rio Grande,
    Dead-eye Dick with his useless prick,
    And Pete with no gun in his hand.

    When a man grows old and his balls grow cold,
    And the tip of his tool turns blue,
    And the hole in the middle refuses to piddle,
    I'd say he was fucked, wouldn't you?
  2. Where is it ?
  3. Thanks Skunkmeister
  4. kinel,,,cant be bothered to read it,,too long :w00t:

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