There passed much sphere-wrought slime. Each throat
Unparched, and glazed each thigh.
A sphere-wrought slime, a sphere-wrought slime.
How grazed each weiry thigh.
When looking wetward they beheld
A comething in the sky.

These seamen burst from diddled pecks
And spent seminal mist.
They moved and moved their digits fast,
For certain shapes they wished.

A peck-ingesting gape they wished,
In which to spear a schmear.
They hoped to log a tauter sprite—
To plunge, not jack and queer.

With throats too slaked and slack lips caked,
They wished to bag some quail.
An uddered mouth would feel so good.
They saw shaved arms, untucked their wood
And cried: "Some tail, some tail!"

"CCs!"one cried, "in back no more.
Thither has more appeal.
Without my breech, without thy slide.
Get ready to make 'em squeal!"

Their weaponry was all aflame;
They sensed some belle-thigh fun.
And then did each his weapon wave—
A broad-liked testes gun.

So straight each gun, a fleshy bar.
At the new ship they gazed.
And with a truncheoned gait, they peered
At broads—not seen in days!

A lass! They're hot and their parts beat loud
As fast the girls come near.
And one says, glancing at them, stunned:
"You men just gawkers here?!"

Like Adam's rib begat a son:
Till now had been their fate.
Now naught but women in this crew—
So much each seaman could have two. . .
Forget the tranny mate!

Their lips were red, their looks were free,
Their locks were yellow as gold,
Their skin had a translucency.
And the men focused fo'c's'lly,
Fast blood thickened their poles.

Now, naked humps—no more manrides,
First, 'twas short-lasting vice.
'Twas but an inaugural pump—
All set to augur twice.

Those spunked rims drip; the parts rush out,
But soon again to park
Them like a philter from MD
Shot in speculum's mark.

The glistening brought them high, way up. . .
Leered at the part, as if to sup,
Then wife-flood seam to sip.
'Twas dark within—a thickened clite;
A spearman's ampoule amply creamed white;
From the pale the dew did drip.
One glommed on an eaten bar.
A hornèd poon felt a slight barb—
Just skin: the nether tip.

One after one, dog-style, 'neath the moon,
Too quick for groan or sigh.
One turned on a face, gave lassie tang,
And each screamed out: "Aye aye!!"

Four times dipped they, livid men;
The ship rang with sighs and groans.
With heavy thump, you heard them hump
Till they dropped—for now, deboned.

Somatic soap on bodies dried;
Some came from kiss or blow.
Then every hole of lass was plied
With fizz; they'd let no moss grow.