There once was a woman called Midge
Who would soberly write about bridge
But her passion and joy
was to shock her three boys
By nakedly cleaning the fridge.
Dear Midge has turned 39
And guzzles down bottles of wine
Says she to her sons
I’ve now got the runs
Come clean up this bottom of mine.
The husband of Midge is so shocked
To see Midge’s bottom unlocked
Says he to the air
I’m not going in there
My penis is only half-cocked.
So now Midge is left all alone
To writhe and to gasp and to moan
She smiles to herself
I’m not yet on the shelf
I can climax just fine on my own.
What next for Midge marvellous and fun?
Will she continue to masterfully come?
Or will she now dare
with great pomp and flare
Finger her husband’s pert bum?