tagIllustrated PoetryThe Batchelor's Hand Revisited

The Batchelor's Hand Revisited


If I'm cuffin' the carrot an' chokin' the gopher,
While watchin' TV and layin' on the sofa,
Havin' good clean fun an' gettin' some sex,
I always keep handy a box of Kleenex.

You may think I'm strange and call me a putz,
But I envy my dog when he licks his nuts,
I don't act weird or do things silly,
I mind my own business and yank my willie.

Some folks give onanists a real bad rap,
But we never come down with a dose of clap,
We seldom get AIDS, syphillis or fleas,
Or any other nasty social disease.

I don't think of meat beatin' as self abuse,
'Spite of frequent warnin's from Dr Mabeuse,
Once I tossed myself off, never missing a stroke,
While eatin' a Big Mac, fries and a Coke.

Strokin' or chokin' or pulling the pud,
Is how I reward myself when I've bin good,
When I've bin bad, you will understand,
That's the time to take myself in hand.

They say I'll go deaf or possibly blind,
Folks even say I'll go out of my mind,
I'll grow hair on the palm of my best friend,
This shall befall me if my ways I don't mend.

But I am undaunted, and the path of true love,
Doth never run smooth and I find that a glove,
Can sometimes add that certain je ne sais quoi,
I am what I am and I wank `cos I are.

The girls on street corners beckon and wink,
They really don't understand me, I think,
"I'm sorry!" I say, to the Sisters of Mercy,
"I'm otherwise occupied polishing Percy"

I keep my dick clean and as neat as a pin,
No smegma grows under my pink foreskin,
My bush grows wild, though, it don't seem fair,
I have to use mousse on my pubic hair.

I confess when I'm drivin', I'll act the fool,
Though traffic is heavy, I haul out my tool,
I jerk it and stroke 'til I finally shoot,
It relieves the tedium of the morning commute.

Sometimes when I'm about to shoot jizzum,
I sniff some tuna for added realism,
Folks say I'm sick, they holler and shout,
'Least my hand don't smell like week old trout.

I went to see a movie the other night,
They wouldn't let me in, I considered it a slight,
They refused me admission, why I don't understand,
I had a quart jar of Vaseline in my hand.

Once Paw caught me jackin' off behind the barn,
He sez, "Son here's sumpin' that you oughta larn,
"First, git yersef some Jergens hand lotion,
Then whup yer willie with a sidearm motion."

I was sittin' on a park bench, polishin' my knob,
Along come a copper name of Sergeant Cobb,
Sez, "That's a crime, boy, you oughta be leavin',
But if you do mine too, we'll call it even."

When I was a boy I really loved school,
I'd sit in the back row, fondlin' my tool,
It was hard to take notes 'cause my hand was busy,
And the girl in front got her long hair jizzy.

Mom caught me beatin' off, sittin' on the toilet,
I thought there'd be trouble, but she didn't spoil it,
She sez, "Good Lord, there oughta be a law,
I got me a son who's jist like his Paw."

I had me a date with a girl named Louise,
I really was doin' my best to please,
She sez, "You better take me home 'cause there's no point,
Of bein' out with a guy who's poundin'his joint.

Once I lost control of my right thumb,
Had an accident and said, "Dad gum,"
I was blissfully usin' my hand on my hose,
But my fist slipped off and busted my nose.

Sometimes while ridin' on a crowded train,
I find my nerves can't stand the strain,
I'd rather have a limo driven by a shofer,
And set in the back seat, chokin' the gopher.

I don't have to wash, I don't need to shave,
There's many ways I don't have to behave,
Nobody nags me and nobody wails,
But I've learnt to take care of my nails.

I love long slow build-ups, the bachelor's hand,
Moves lightly assisting my little man to stand,
Then coax it along 'til it's ripe, fully risen,
At the hair-trigger point at which I spurt jizzm.

There's plenty who tell me of what I am missing,
Of pussies to penetrate, nipples for kissing,
But they can't compete with what I have planned,
Another night at home with the bachelor's hand.

But still they condemn me, they chastise me too.
They do not approve what I natuarally do.
They say I'll lose my ability to write poetry if I carry on
What do they know?


Contributions by Gabriel Lee and Pure
Illustration by Rhinoman
Thanks for technical help to Killer Muffin

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