John was an upstanding gentleman,
In good health, muscular, quite fit,
The only thing that spoilt this illusion,
Was John had a fetid armpit!
It was gunky, smelly and slimy,
It left a green mess on his shirt,
And whenever the clock struck midnight,
From that armpit acid would squirt.
He tried all the usual deodorants,
And any strange remedy he heard,
But the only thing that seemed to tame the pit,
Was a smearing of thick lemon curd.
But the armpit would not be defeated,
It sruck back at the coating of lemon,
From deep within its fetid crevice,
It spat out sulphuric venom.
John hit back with relentless vigour,
Smearing on thick strawberry jam,
He followed with a dollop of ketchup,
Some cucumber, lettuce and ham!
The armpit charged John's defences,
Attacking preserves, salads and meats,
For three days the bombardment continued,
Until at last, John conceeded defeat.
Now John is still an upstanding gentleman,
Still in good health, muscular and fit,
But if you should ever meet up with him,
Beware his fetid armpit!
Spanish eyes,
Where did you get those Spanish eyes,
Where did you get those,
Swedish legs?
And those Romanian arms?
Is it because you are a trader,
In the highly lucrative body parts business?
Q: What kind of curry gives you cold farts the next morning?
A: Jalfreezy!
A peeping tom was caught looking into the lounge of an old people's home. Bizarre in itself, but this fellow was dressed in a long black robe; his face shadowed by a dark hood and carrying a scythe!