[Alpha’s modern version of bawdy rhymes and erotica similar to the burlesque and vaudeville periods.]
Salt-Peter
Do they still use salt-peter?
As they did quite long ago
When I was a boy
Or the boy was my dad
They slipped it in the meals
In the food that we had
Never given a choice
No voice of our own
And never had to be bad
A mess hall recipe’
In male-only institutions
A secret solution
To nature’s need…and morning woody
When missing your girl or wife
They figured less arousal…less strife
So, they measured out the salt-peter
A pleasure killing dirty trick
But some of us overcame
And still played the sexy game
When you can’t use a salty peter
You please your girl with a salty lick
Harry Hunk
Harry Hunk worked daily to build muscle
It serves him well for he’s won every tussle
He was hired to test security
To protect a queen’s purity
And he failed to get past her chastity belt and bustle
1849er Miner
An eighteen-forty-niner miner
Awoke with a notable shiner
Though he had no clue how he got it
A rather nice gent, his gold dust now spent
Bought rounds for the house, got fractured and bent
None of which explained how he got hit
A choice to survive, no wagon he would drive
A walk in fresh air might even revive
So, off thru the park at a non-sober strut
He chatted quite gleefully at nobody really
A fantasy wife he could touch quite freely
Except he groped and he grabbed a real butt
The gal was Miss Lucy, curvaceous and juicy
Who became quite flirtatious after the goosey
Though she turned rather quick…and oh my!
Her sizable breasts made her bra overstressed
Which blew off her blouse and left her half-dressed
That created an epidemic of male bug-eyes
Her clothes tattered and rent, and the miner a nice gent
He removed his own shirt and it was lent
To Miss Lucy who did cover, though she wasn’t really shy
But her fiancé’ had seen the eye-catching scene
Some say from his ears they saw steam
While he reared back and let the punch fly
The miner had luck, he was able to duck
Though confused, he yelled, “What the fuck!”
And flight, not fight, took control
Away he did run like a son of a gun
With his tipsy side thinking it’s fun
Till he tripped and forgot to tuck and roll
He saw a lady’s crack as she bent by a snack shack
So, down he went to earn the shiner now black
Which tells that part of the tale
But the snacking diner knew the drunken miner
A crush she had for him, this Miss. Spiner
And she took him home and offered him her tail
Her tail was far from rotten, so on her sheets of cotton
The miner’s shiner was quickly forgotten
And their faces both did glow
The miner struck it rich, a fine lady not a bitch
So, all was perfect for him, except for one glitch
If he ever drank again he’d be black and blue from head to toe
Leap Frog
While trying to create a trend
For both women and men
A chap with cross-eyes
Said, “Why don’t we sexualize
The child’s game of Leap Frog?”
Both sexes au natural
With women wearing strap-ons of hard gel
Each want to penetrate and pound
So, all crouch froggy style in the round
And leap over one to hump another bum like a horny dog