Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man who's not a creep.
One who's handsome, smart and strong,
One who loves to listen long,
One who thinks before he speaks,
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he's gainfully employed;
When I spend his cash, won't be annoyed.
Pulls out my chair and opens my door,
Massages my back and begs to do more.
Oh! Send me a man who'll make love to my mind,
Knows what to answer to 'How big is my behind?'
I pray that this man will love me to no end,
And always be my very best friend.
A MAN'S POEMI pray for a deaf-mute nymphomaniac with huge boobs who owns a liquor store. This doesn't rhyme, and, like this cat, I don't give a shit.
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The new supermarket near our house has an automatic water mister to keep the produce fresh. Just before it goes on, you hear the sound of distant thunder and the smell of fresh rain.
When you approach the milk cases, you hear cows mooing and you take in the scent of fresh hay.
When you approach the egg case, you hear hens cluck and cackle, and the air is filled with the pleasing aroma of bacon and eggs frying.
The veggie department features the smell of fresh buttered corn.
I do not buy toilet paper there.
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My favorite word today is secret. N., mum's the word. Def.: Something you tell to one person at a time.
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