A Weary Traveller’s Remorse—With Mashed Potatoes (Feat. Extra Mature Cheddar)

Hey girls!
B-Boys!
Superstar Poemists!
Here we go…

His belly rumbles;
A warning most dire.
A deep, bassy grumble;
This sex is on fire.

“It hurts”, he mutters;
Stuck in a mire.
Nobody gives a shit;
Let it roll like a Mack truck tyre.

In ire, he bellows;
“God loves a trier!”
Your love keeps lifting me,
Higher and higher.

Our elders are scared;
They avoid our stares;
They don’t know the similarity,
Between Common and Roy Ayers;
I guess, to you,
We’re all players!

This ain’t plagiarism!
This is,
Original pirate material,
You’re listening to Ed Sax,
Lock down your aerial!

Has it comes to this?

Silly slag.
Old hag.
Boring nag.
Shit shag.

Lick my taint;
Try not to faint.

I’mma give dat ass room,
Better yet,
Lets fuck in the bathroom,
If we have room,
It’s a full moon.

Now I’m bored.
Fuck off!