Gather 'round, all you whorey,
Gather 'round, and hear my story.

Don't look at me that way, stranger,
Cos my pants ain't full of shit,
It's just this God-damned syphilis
That's eating me bit by bit.

When a man grows old and his balls grow cold,
And the tip of his prick turns blue;
When it bends in the middle like a one-string fiddle,
He can tell you a tale or two.

When men grow old and their balls grow cold,
And the end of their tool turns blue,
Far from the halls of Yukon Strife
They'll tell a tale that's true.

So pull up a chair and stand me a drink,
And a tale to you I will tell
About Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
And a harlot named Eskimo Nell.

When Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
Go forth in search of fun,
It's Dead-Eye Dick that swings the prick,
And Mexican Pete the gun.

When Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
Are sore, depressed and sad,
It's always a cunt that bears the brunt,
But the shooting's not so bad.

Now Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
Lived down by Dead Man's Creek,
And such was their luck that they'd had no fuck
For nigh on half a week.

Oh, a moose or two, and a caribou,
And a bison cow or so,
But for Dead-Eye Dick with his kingly prick,
This fucking was mighty slow.
Dick pound on his cock with a huge piece of rock,
And he said, "I want to play!,
It's been almost a week at his fucking creek,
With no cunt coming my way!"

So, do or dare, this horny pair
Set off for the Rio Grand:
Dead-Eye Dick with his kingly prick,
And Pete with his gun in his hand.

Hot with lust and a month's trail-dust
They set off for a drinking hole;
Two shady pricks from the fork of the creek
With a three week load in their poles.

Then, as they blazed their noisy trail,
No man, their path withstood.
Many a bride, her husband's pride,
A pregnant widow stood.

They blazed away on their horny way,
No man their fire withstood,
And many a bride who was hubby's pride
Knew pregnant widowhood.

They reached the strand of the Rio Grande
At the height of a blazing noon.
To slake their thirst, and do their worst,
They sought Black Mike's saloon.

A bunch of cowhands were whooping it up
In this redneck hole in the wall,
And a comely maid standing at the bar
Was hefting Mike's left ball.

The swinging doors they pushed back wide,
Both prick and gun flashed free.
"According to sex, you bleeding wrecks,
You'll drink or you'll fuck with me!"

Came crashing in with doors a-swing.
Both prick and gun flashed free:
"According to sex, you poxy wrecks,
You drinks or fucks with me."

Down on the floor on top of a whore
Lay the horny Klondike Mick,
Giving her one with the force of a gun,
When in walked Dead-Eye Dick,

Now Dick would screw with a caribou,
If he couldn't find a cunt,
And if he got stuck with no whores to fuck,
Some poor queer bore the brunt.

Dick made a pass at Klondike's ass
And missed it just by a hair.
Klondike scowled and Dead-Eye growled,
In a voice like a grizzly bear.

Mick's trousers split; they were chalk full of shit,
As he plopped his ass on a keg,
And his balls hung low and they swung to and fro,
With every move of his leg.

Dick's face was red as blood ran to his head;
For wildest passion within him burned
Then he pulled out his cock to display to the flock
And everyone's asshole squirmed.

Now they knew of the fame of our hero's name
From the Horn to Panama,
And with nothing worse than a muttered curse
Those cowhands sought the bar.

For when Dick walked in to a house of sin,
The whores all cursed their luck,
So not even a tart dared let out a fart,
When he said "I want to fuck!"

Yes, they'd heard of the prick of Dead-Eye Dick,
From the Yukon to Panama,
So, with scarcely worse than a muttered curse,
Those fellows all sought the bar.

The girls they knew of his playful ways
Down on the Rio Grande,
And forty whores pulled down their drawers
At Dead-eyed Dick's command.

For they saw the finger of Mexican Pete
Move on the trigger grip,
So they didn't wait: At a fearful rate
Those whores began to strip.
Yes they saw the fingers of Mexican Pete
Touching his pistol grip,
No time to didn't waste, in frantic haste
Those whores began to strip.

Now, Dead-Eye Dick was breathing quick
With lecherous snorts and grunts,
So forty butts were bared to view,
And likewise forty cunts.

When Dick held sway none would gainsay,
So bared stood forty doxies,
Forty bared rumps and forty cunts,
And twice that many poxes.

Now, forty butts and forty cunts,
If you can use your wits,
And if you're slick at arithmetic,
Makes exactly eighty tits.
Sure, eighty tits are a gladsome sight
For a man with a raging stand.
It may be rare in Berkeley Square,
But not on the Rio Grande!
Now Dead-Eye Dick had fucked a few
On a spree the preceding night,
This he had done in the spirit of fun
And to whet his appetite.

Yes, to test his wind, he'd had a grind
The previous Saturday night,
And this he'd done to show his fun
And whet his appetite.

Dick backed to the door and the number one whore
Could see in the chandelier's prism
As he sprung through air, his bollocks all bare
And sprayed her with his jism.

His phallic limb was in fucking trim.
As he backed and took a run,
And made a dart at the nearest tart,
He scored a hole in one.

The lady he bore to the dusty floor,
And there he filled her fine,
And though she grinned, it put the wind
Up the other thirty-nine.

When Dead-Eye Dick lets loose his prick,
He has no time to spare,
For speed and strength, combined with length,
He fairly singes hair.

So Deadeye Dick, he fucks 'em quick,
And flinging the first aside,
He was making a gin at the second quim,
When the swing doors opened wide.

He made a dart at the next fair tart,
When into that harlot's hell
Strode a gentle maid who was unfraid:
Her name was Eskimo Nell.

Then there entered into that hall of sin
Yes, into that harlots' hell --
A lusty maid who was unafraid,
And her name was ESKIMO NELL.

By this time, Dick had got his prick
Well into number two,
When Eskimo Nell let out a yell.
She bawled to him, "Hey, you!"

Dick gave a flick of his muscular prick,
And the girl flew over his head,
He then wheeled about with an angry shout;
His face and his balls were red.

The hefty lout, he turned about,
Both knob and face were red.
With a dextrous flick of his muscular prick,
The tart flew o'er his head.

With a lustful leer he said, "Look here,
Just get into the queue:
I've got to mate with thirty-eight
Before I get to you.

But Eskimo Nell, she stood it well
And looked him in the eyes;
With utter scorn she sneered at the horn
That rose from his hairy thighs.

Nell glanced our hero up and down,
His looks she seemed to decry
As she stood there with her raven hair
And her tits rode proud and high.

She blew the smoke of her cigarette
All over his steaming knob.
So utterly beat was Mexican Pete
That he failed to do his job.

It was Eskimo Nell who broke the spell
In accents clear and cool:
"You cunt-struck shrimp of a Yankee pimp!
You call that thing a tool?

"If this here town can't take that down,"
She sneered to those cowering whores,
"There's another cunt that can do the stunt,
But it Eskimo Nell's, not yours."

She dropped her garments one by one
With an air of conscious pride,
And as she stood in her womanhood,
They saw the Great Divide.

Then she stubbed out the butt of her cigarette
On the end of his gleaming knob,
And so utterly beat was Mexico Pete
That he quite forgot his job.

'Tis fair to state 'twas not so great
Though it's strength lay well within
And a better word, that's often heard,
Would not be cunt but quim.

No grizzly bear had so much pubic hair,
Or dripped with so much grease,
Or had the depth as well as breadth,
To take his tool with ease,

Yes it's fair to state it was not so great,
But it had a solid rim;
Viewed from without, it left no doubt
Of the tensile strength within.

She seated herself on a table top,
Where someone had left a glass.
With a twitch of her tits, she crushed it to bits
Between the cheeks of her ass.

She flexed her knees with a supple ease,
And spread her thighs apart.
With a friendly nod to the mangy sod,
She gave him the cue to start.

Now, Dead-Eye Dick knew more than one trick,
And he meant to take his time,
For a woman like this was orgasmic bliss,
So he played the pantomime.

He flexed his asshole to and fro,
And made his balls inflate,
Until they looked like the granite knobs
On the top of a palace gate.

He blew his anus inside out,
His balls increased in size,
His mighty prick grew twice as thick
And reached almost to his eyes.

He rubbed his foreskin up and down;
His knob increased in size;
That mighty prick grew twice as thick
And almost reached his eyes.

He polished it up with alcohol,
Then, to make it steaming hot
And finish the job, he sprinkled the knob
With a cayenne pepperpot.

Then did he neither start to run
Nor did he take a leap,
Nor did he stoop, but with a swoop
Began a steady, forward creep.

As a marksman might, he took a sight
Along his mighty tool,
And his steady grin as he pushed it in
Showed a calculated cool.

Have you ever seen the pistons
On the mighty C.P.R.,
With the driving force of a thousand horse?
Well, then you know what pistons are.

Or, you think you do, but you've yet to see
The ins and outs of the trick
Of the work that's done on a non-stop run
By a fellow like Dead-Eye Dick.

So if you think you do, if you've yet to view
The power that drives that prick
Or the work that's done on a nonstop run
By a man like Deadeye Dick.

None but a fool would challenge his tool,
No thinking man would doubt
For his fame increased as the Great High Priest
Of the ceaseless in-and-out.

But Eskimo Nell was no infidel,
As good as a whole harem
With the strength of ten in her abdomen
And the Rock of Ages between.
With nary a scream, she could take the stream
Like the flush of a watercloset.
Now, she gripped his cock like a Chatwood Lock
On the National Safe Deposit.

Amidships she could stand a rush
Like the flush of a water closet,
And from all his years of fucking queers,
He knew that now this was it,

She could take the stream of a lover's cream,
Like the flush of a water closet,
And she gripped Dick's cock in a vice-like lock
That could make a man lose his deposit.

But Dead-Eye Dick would not come quick,
He meant to conserve his powers,
For if he'd a mind, he'd grind and grind
For sixteen solid hours.

Nell lay a while with a subtle smile,
Then the grip of her cunt grew keener,
And a squeeze of her thigh then sucked him dry
With the ease of a vacuum cleaner.

She performed this trick in a way so slick
As to set in complete defiance
The principal cause and basic laws
That govern sexual science.
She calmly rode through the phallic code
Which for years had withstood the test,
And the ancient rules of the classic schools
In a moment or two, went west.

Right here, my friend, we come to the end
Of copulation's classic:
The effect on Dick was sudden and quick
And akin to an anaesthetic.

So yes, my friend, we approach the end
Of this copulative epic:
The effect on Dick was sudden and quick
And akin to anaesthetic.

He fell to the floor, and he knew no more,
His passions extinct and dead,
Nor did he shout as his cock fell out,
Though 'twas stripped right down to a thread.

Then, Mexican Pete did leap to his feet
To avenge his pal's affront,
With a jarring jolt of his blue-nosed Colt,
He rammed it up Nell's cunt.

He rammed it hard to the trigger guard,
Then fired two times three,
But to his surprise, Nell closed her eyes
And smiled in ecstacy.

Said Eskimo Nell, "You've rung my bell;
I'm ready to explode.
Oh Pete, my sweet, can you repeat?"
Said he, "I've shot my load".

As she rose to her feet, she looked so sweet
"Hooray!" she cried, "for you;
Though I might have guessed it's about the best
That you poor sods could do.

With a gleam in her eyes and a flex of her thighs,
And a twitch of her mighty hips,
With barely a grunt, Nell's mighty cunt,
Like a gun shot all bullets six.

She rose to her feet with a smile so sweet,
Then "Bully," she said, "for you,
Though I might have guessed that that was the best
That you two poor pimps could do.

"When next, my friend, that you intend
To sally forth for fun,
Buy Dead-Eye Dick a sugar stick,
And yourself an elephant gun.

I thought you jerks could give me the works",
She said in accents cool,
"But I guess I must go to the land of snow
To find a man with a tool.

"I'm going forth to the frozen North
Where the peckers are hard and strong,
Back to the land of the frozen stand
Where the nights are six months long.

Yes I'm going forth to the frozen north,
Where those pricks are hard and strong,
That is the land of the all-night stand -
And the nights are six months long!

"It's hard as tin when they put it in
In the land where spunk is spunk.
Not a trickling stream of lukewarm cream,
But a solid, frozen chunk.

Yes, I'm going forth to the frozen north,
Where a whore can do no wrong,
Where the Arctic blizzard sticks deep in your gizzard
Like fourteen inches of dong,

"Back to the land where they understand
What it means to fornicate,
Where even the dead sleep two in a bed
And the babies masturbate.

"Back to the land of the grinding gland,
Where the walrus plays with his prong,
Where the polar bear wanks off in his lair,
That's where they'll sing this song.

"They'll tell this tale on the Arctic trail
Where the nights are sixty below,
Where it's so damn cold the jonnies are sold
Wrapped up in a ball of snow.

"In the Valley of Death with bated breath,
That's where they'll sing it too,
Where the skeletons rattle in sexual battle
And the rotting corpses screw.

"Back to the land where men are Men,
I'll say 'Terra Bellicum,'
And there I'll spend my worthy end,
For the North is calling: 'Come!'"

Back once more to the sins of men,
To the Land of the Midnight Sun,
Yes I go to spend a worthy end
For the North is calling 'Come!'"

Then Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
Slunk away from the Rio Grande,
Dead-Eye Dick with his useless prick,
And Pete with no gun in his hand.

When a man grows old and his balls grow cold,
And the tip of his prick turns blue,
And the hole in the middle refuses to piddle,
I'd say he was fucked, wouldn't you?

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