![]() As a lasting memory to the great Old Whore, They hung her drawers on the Bar Room door. Pete reeled in his dick and pounded his chest Got on two horses and rode off West. It was so damn sticky, you couldn't pick up your feet! Land was torn up for miles around, Where Old Pete's balls had drug the ground. Gallons of love were spilled out in the street. When the battle was over and the dust had cleared, Over forty acres, Lil's ass was smeared. The earth shook and dark came to the sun Pete's eyes rolled back and he fired off his gun. Old Lil screamed and clawed at the grass, And yelled like a panther with a turpentined ass! Lil let out a scream, "I can't take any more!" But Pete pounded away on the smelly old whore. With a stretching of flesh, and tearing of skin, Old Pete drove the first two feet in. All she could do was to take a seat, And let old Pete sink his meat. Pete greased his dick with a tub of lard, And he killed a mule trying to work up a hard! Old Lil warmed up on an old cross-tie Oh my God how the splinters did fly! Pete came down Main Street like a south-bound freight, And Old Lil knew she had met her fate. They met the next morning in the middle of the street, The Mangey Whore and Piss Pot Pete. People came from miles afar, To place their bets at the Blue Balls Bar. Gentlemen, countrymen, boys in blue, Came to witness this terrible screw. Stunk like shit, I thought I'd die But he just laughed and let it lie. ![]() Eighteen pounds of meat and thirty pounds of cod He wasn't a boy-he was a MAN, by God! Pete laid it out on the Blue Balls Bar I'll swear it stretched from thar to thar. Now news of this boast traveled far and wide Thousands of rod-toters came and died When down from Knoxville came Piss-pot Pete, With eighteen pounds of Swinging Meat. There wasn't a man for miles around With a big enough rod to fuck her down. Now Old Lil fucked everything that crawled or creeped, And piled her victims in a great big heap. It all started a way out west, To settle the bet of who was best. Poor, poor Nell The Legend of Pisspot Pete Now gather 'round children and I'll tell a story of old, When men were brave and women were bold. They all shook hands and the bets were made For Pete and Nell to screw and spar Up on the hill behind the bar When the day arrived thousands fought for a seat Just to see that half-bread hide his meat A shout arrose when the half-breed came Dressed and ready for that deadly game Nell came out and the croud gave a cheer For on Nells face there was a snear For this little old shriveled man That dared to brag he could frog her can They turned and sparred twisted and sweezed First one then the other upon their knees Fought and fought for hours and hours Tore down trees, grass and flowers The sneer was gone from old Nell's pan All her thoughts were on her can Neither smiled neither spoke Suddenly Nell missed a stroke And Pisspot nailed her as she broke The ground was torn for miles around where poor Nell's ass had drug the ground Nell died that day all broken and tore They hung her pants on the craphouse door. We'll do it for sport But I'll take a bet - anything you can name - Mine against your and only one winner in the game It's a deal said Pete and the croud gave a hollar Then the betting begain. I know your sort There won't be any price. I'm that old whore I hear you are here bragging. Now I want a gal, no two bit whore She must be a good one who knows all the score There's only one woman any good I hear tell She's a hustling chippy a bitch called Nell Now just the sound of that name brought a hush over those walls The only noise in the room was Pete scratching his balls So you want old Nell, said a voice from the door. ![]() ![]() Pete yelled for a bottle then turned as he spoke Spent a year on the range with a rusty load in my poke I've palmed a few batches on the hill where I sat Changed hands and gained a stroke - caught it in my hat On a cold winter's nights, I go to bed with the sheep Then leave my John soak til the shit is knee deap. She like diddlin' best Now it was a standing bet in our home town There were no two men black or brown That could frog old Nell and hold her down 'Til one day there strode into the bar Wild and wooly Piss Pot Pete Fresh off the range from diddlin' sheep Pisspot laid his John upon the bar The old folks say that it reached from thar to thar. The poem Variants Diddling Nellie Nell was a schoolteacher way out west But she gave up teaching.
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