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Gay Limericks

by Henry Bayne


Some “Naughty” Limericks

by Henry Bayne

henrybayne@hotmail.com

1

There was a young man from Saint Source's,

Whose cock was as big as a horse's.

He'd suck on his meat,

Before he would eat,

And did it again between courses.

2

There once was a boy from Dubai

Whose dick got too big for his fly.

He yanked down the zipper,

And pulled out his flipper,

It stood up and poked out his eye.

3

There once was a boy with a dong

Which he fiddled with all the day long.

It was quite a riddle,

But he could so fiddle,

That his dong sometimes burst out in song.

4

There once was a man from the sticks,

Whose hobby was sucking men's pricks.

He did it with pleasure,

When they gave him leisure,

And they all got some really good kicks.

5

There once was a man who made socks,

Which he fitted on other men's cocks.

‘Twas not at all nasty;

He made them for chast’ty

And he fitted them all out with locks.

And for every sock lock was one key

Which he then would hand over to me.

And those men who wore socks

To lock up their cocks

Had to ask my permission to pee.

6

There once was a man from St. Paddy's

Who liked not so much ladies as laddies

But not only boys

Were his favorite toys;

He also liked little lads' daddies

7

There once was a man called De Gradys.

Who liked laddies much better than ladies.

He preferred best to sin

With their ventral fin.

And he said, “It’s worth burning in Hades!”

8

Though I know that my mind's a bit addled,

With burdens I'm not really saddled.

It's my wife more, I swear,

With the burden to bear,

And it's her more than me, who gets rattled.

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7 Gay Erotic Stories from Henry Bayne

Adapted Folksongs

New Versions to Three Old Folksongs by Henry Bayne I. New verses to: There was an Old man named Michael Finnegan There was an old man named Michael Finnegan. His favorite toy wa'nt made of tin again! When it stood up, then he would sin again. Wicked Michael Finnegan. Begin again. There was an old man named Michael Finnegan. His dong hung right down to his shin again. If

Call me Kjaere

Call Me Kjære Written and translated from the original Dutch version by Henry Bayne I originally wrote this story in Dutch and entered it in a story-writing contest in “De Gay Krant” (a Dutch weekly newspaper for gays) in 1993, where it won second prize. This will be the first time it appears anywhere in English. The first two paragraphs are only a little different from the

Call me Kjære

Eine Geschichte über einen verklemmten Schwulen, der sich selbst erst sehr spät erlaubt, seinen Neigungen zu folgen. Aber nicht zu spät. Diese Geschichte habe ich (ca. 1993) ursprünglich auf Niederländisch geschrieben und bei einem Preisausschreiben der niederländischen Schwulenzeitung Gay Krant eingereicht, wo sie den zweiten Preis erhielt. Seit November letzten Jahres ist die

Erotic Verses

I. New verses to: There was an Old man named Michael Finnegan There was an old man named Michael Finnegan. His favorite toy wa'nt made of tin again! When it stood up, then he would sin again. Wicked Michael Finnegan. Begin again. There was an old man named Michael Finnegan. His dong hung right down to his shin again. If I'm lucky I'll meet him again. Long-dong Michael Finnegan.

Gay Limericks

Some “Naughty” Limericks by Henry Bayne henrybayne@hotmail.com 1 There was a young man from Saint Source's, Whose cock was as big as a horse's. He'd suck on his meat, Before he would eat, And did it again between courses. 2 There once was a boy from Dubai Whose dick got too big for his fly. He yanked down the zipper, And pulled out his flipper, It

Naughty Limericks

1 There was a young man from Saint Source's, Whose cock was a big as a horse's. He'd suck on his meat, Before he would eat, And did it again between courses. 2 There once was a boy from Hawaii Whose dick got too big for his fly. He yanked down the zipper, And pulled out his flipper, And it stood up and poked in his eye. 3 There once was a boy with a dong Which he fiddled with

You Go Slavia

You were travelling by train from Sarajevo, where you'd spent half a year studying Serbo-Croatian, to Zagreb, where you were planning to look for living quarters in order to continue your studies there. It was July 1989. The train was supposedly going to leave at 10 P.M., but now at half past midnight it was still standing in the Sarajevo Central Station and hadn't budged an inch. For

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