In days that'll pass, they'll chortle en

In days that'll pass, they'll chortle en masse, At a fine, young ass, with balls made of brass Who rode a wagon, swigging a flagon With, but, a rag-on, out for a dragon. He found it at last, but stood there aghast, The beast was so vast, it let out a blast Though it was unjust, it burnt to a crust, His rag, and his trust, to leer, and to lust Our hero now nude; his flagon was viewed, But, kept ever shrewd; the creature was screwed The beast had a knack, to crack and to whack, But, he had a hack, and jumped on it’s back Imagine it’s shock, when it couldn’t block, but using a rock, he gave it the sock So blush not to tell, how beast really fell, But, stand up, and yell, his bare-ass did well!