The Wrong Hole

Just a thrust, just a thrust,
Just a thrust onward,
All in the valley of flesh,
Rode the six incher,
"Forward, the reckless stud!"
"Charge for the vag" she said
Into the valley of flesh,
Rode the six-incher

"Forward, the reckless stud!"
Was the man engorg'd with blood?
Not tho' the woman knew
Someone had blunder'd
Hers not to make reply,
Hers not to reason why,
Hers but to clench and cry,
Into the valley of brown
Rode the six-incher.

Arse-cheek to the right of him,
Arse-cheek to the left of him,
Hole in front of him,
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly he thrust and well,
Into the jaws of bliss,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six-incher.

Flash'd his sabre bare,
Flash'd as it burned the air,
Sabring the tight hole there
Charging the blockage, while
The woman wonder'd
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line he broke
The tight-assed woman
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then he rode back, just him
Just the six-incher.

Arse-cheek to the right of him,
Arse-cheek to the left of him,
Hole behind him,
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
The hero bravely fell,
He who had thrust so well
Came thro' the jaws of bliss
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of him,
Left of the six-incher.

When can his glory fade?
O the wild charge he made!
The woman wondered.
Honor the charge he made,
Honor that reckless stud,
Noble six-incher.