Lady Hortense Fotheringay was young and fair and pretty,
And spoke with lords and men alike, charming, sharp and witty.
At school she passed with honours yet maintained an air of piety,
And dined amongst the gentrified heads of high society.
She'd danced with princes, dukes and earls with grace and elegance.
She'd learned to ride in dressage, and even how to fence,
But one thing that eluded her despite her privileges:
What was that seldom mentioned thing that men kept in their britches?
Across the rugged mountains, in a far off distant village
Engelbert Von Burgernosh was preparing for a pillage
A dastardly young pirate he was shifty and suspicious
Yet devilishly handsome with an arse that was delicious
And though the ladies feared him, for his uncouth reputation,
They secretly all wanted to indulge in fornication.
And being quite obliging, and not one to shirk his duty
He'd managed to accumulate a most impressive booty.
"Oh mother," Hortense did beseech, "Pray do to me divulge,
The nature of what men do have where their trousers bulge."
"Hortense, my dear," was her reply, "I truly cannot say.
There are certain things you must not know until your wedding day."
Hortense was undeterred, and forthright went and asked some men,
But each one blushed and told her on her nuptuals she'd know then.
But impatience did frustrate her as she knew not what she lacked,
"Oh, is there not one man who will reveal to me this fact?"
Now unbeknownst to Hortense, she was soon to get her answer,
For Engelbert the pirate saddled up his pony, Prancer.
He'd decided to head South, because the North was drab and wet,
And perhaps there'd be some ladies that he hadn't deflowered yet
The South, he'd heard, had harbours where the gentry liked to moor.
He was sure to earn a better wage than pilfering off the poor,
So he took his awesome bottom and his faithful parrot Danny
And rode in to the distance, for to seek out Southern fanny.
"I cannot linger here if this mystery I'm to unravel.
I'll seek my answer elsewhere if it means I have to travel.
I shall go down to the harbour where there's men who've sailed the seas.
Maybe someone there can tell me what is where one wees."
And with that Lady Hortense went and saddled up her horse,
And with great determination she rode the beast with force
Down into the harbour with the hustle and the bustle,
And every man she gazed upon flexed a little muscle.
Engelbert was tethering his pony to some railings
Whilst pondering the posh folk and their luxurious sailings,
When suddenly from the North there came a freak strong gust of breeze
And his dirty pirate britches ended up around his knees.
Their most substantial contents were exposed to all who saw,
And the size was most impressive, tip just inches from the floor
Blushing red, he went to pull them up again in shock
When behind him he heard a noise that went clip clop clip clop clip clop
Lady Hortense pulled the reins and woahed her gallant steed.
Such serendipity by chance she could not have conceived.
Her bosoms heaved, her heart went boom, her cheeks turned crimson red.
She addressed the embarrassed pirate while trying to keep her head,
"Oh knavish rogue before me, with buttocks pert and round,
One so calypigous, I ne'er before have found.
Pray turn around and face me for I'm on a noble quest.
I suspect that what I'm seeking hangs below your ragged vest.
Engelbert stood motionless, his mind a racing clock
His modesty in tatters, for the want of shield or sock
He'd met so many virgin girls, relieved them of their burden
But none had spoke such fancy words quite in the way he'd heard 'em
Now overcome completely by a sudden case of shyness
His once-proud member shrivelled up
Like plants, when left in dryness
Not wishing this fine lady here to witness such a farce
He yanked his britches up so she'd see nothing but his arse.
"Oh, bashful one, you disappoint me," Lady Hortense sighed,
"Does this mean that once again my search will be denied?
Be you man? Or be you mouse? Or be you just like me
With nothing but a tiny hole from which you have a pee?"
And with that she dismounted and strode up to the pirate,
A firey glow within her eyes, and getting rather irate.
She grabbed Engelbert's trousers and she gave his arse a feel
Then pulled his pants back down until they lay around his heels.
Engelbert stood scarlet-faced with pants around his feet,
A lady like he'd never seen eyeing up his veg and meat.
But such was his embarrassment, his once-impressive schlong
Had shrivelled up to nothing, it was quite completely gone.
But Hortense was a naiive girl, and knew not what she saw,
She had no idea of width or breadth, having not seen one before.
"Oh Golly!" she exclaimed at last, "That's not like mine at all!
But pray... what do you do with it? It looks a little small..."
"Er, yes," he said, "They're all like that. It really is quite normal.
Come with me into this barn, we don't need to be formal.
Get down on your hands and knees upon these bails of straw,
And soon I swear you will find out exactly what it's for."
Hortense got into position as the pirate raised her skirts
And gazed upon her wondrous tush, so pretty and so pert.
But as he stroked her cheeks and pressed his tadge against her thigh
He felt that in his family jewels something was awry.
Hortense waited, arse in air, for what though? She knew not.
Whilst behind her Engelbert did groan, and faff about a lot.
"Oh handsome villain, roguish lad, what taketh thou so long?
My hands and knees are growing tired. Pray tell me, what is wrong?"
Poor Engelbert was flustered, told her "With you in a jiffy!"
But he knew deep in his no-good heart he just couldn't get a stiffy.
He was used to pirate ladies, much more hairy, course and smelly,
The occasional cabin boy and, in emergencies, a welly.
Catastrophe! Calamity! Complete humiliation!
How on earth could this great stud be in this situation?
Is a bit of high class totty more than he can handle?
But if this news were to get out it would be quite a scandal.
His reputation would become completely torn to shreds
If e'er it became know that some posh bird he couldn't bed.
He'd be the pirate laughing stock and this gave him the fear.
Then he glanced upon his pony and he had a smart idea.
With no further hesitation, Engelbert then seized his chance.
He took his tiny, shrivelled cock, and put it in his pants.
Then he beckoned to his pony "Psst, Prancer, come here boy.
It seems I have a job for you, I think you might enjoy.
It's sure beats getting ridden on, or rounding up some goats.
And if you'll do this for me, I'll be sure you get your oats."
Then taking Prancer firmly by the reigns, he took a breath,
And prayed that his innovation wouldn't cause a painful death.
He led his loyal pony in the barn and up to where
Lady Hortense crouched down with her bum up in the air.
"Look at those fine fetlocks," he whispered in his ear,
"And when did you last see such hocks, or such a perfect rear?
And what a shining golden mane adorns this horny filly."
And with that he reached down and started stroking Prancer's willy
Which surely as a pig will fart, stiffened to a pole,
And Engelbert von Burgernosh steered it to its goal.
"Oh Engelbert!" Sweet Hortense cried, her pink pert rear gyrating.
"So THIS is what I've spent my life impatiently awaiting?"
"Er yes, that's right my desert rose!" he nervously replied,
And he glanced down at his shrivelled cock, which kind of hurt his pride.
Prancer, on the other hand, was filled with great elation
As he steered his great big horsey knob towards ejaculation,
He whinnied and he reared about and thrust it in and out,
Until at last the moment came, and Hortense gave a shout...
"Yes, my pirate! Yes! Yes! YES!" she screamed out loud with force.
"Neigh, neigh, neigh!" young Prancer cried and gave a mighty snort.
Panting great big horsey breaths, the pony then withdrew.
And Engelbert then ushered him away from this ado.
"My pirate, oh how wonderful," Hortense went on to say,
"But tell me please, I'm curious, did I not hear you neigh?"
Engelbert tried to be calm and hide his dithering
"I did, my love. It's OK though. It's just a pirate thing."
Hortense got up and smoothed her frock, her face all read and sweaty,
So glad that she had found, by chance, her answer at the jetty.
"I know now what you menfolk keep inside your manly britches.
But tell me, why am I so sore? My rear end's red, it itches.
You don't look very hairy, yet I've friction burns for sure.
And that thing of yours was very small. So why am I so sore?
And what is all this nasty goo that clings to me this way?
It's stickier than glue, my dear. And it smells of oats and hay."
All these fuckin' questions, said the pirate in his head,
Why can't this posh bint just shut up and bugger off instead?
It's bad enough the way that I have got in this position,
But after that I didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition.
I've got to make a break for it and get right out of here.
"Oo, look!" he said "A bumblebee!" and pointed to her hair
To quickly mount his charger he thought was now his best bet
But Prancer was relaxing with a king sized cigarette.
Engelbert was rather stunned to see his pony smoking.
He thought, "I think we've gone too far. Or is the poet joking?
Perhaps it's just a metaphor for eating oats or neighing.
Just what was meant by that remark? Oh what the fuck's Mike saying?
I hope he didn't mean it 'cause that makes this whole thing silly.
A horse has no opposable thumbs. What did he light it with? His willy?
It really is a stupid thing to put into a poem.
I thought we had a master plan but fuck knows where this is going."
Oh, don't be so damn picky. It really doesn't matter.
He might have popped out to the pub, for a beer and a natter.
Some patron could have lit it for him as he turned to go.
Or lit it on some open fire, but we'll never know,
Because for those two verses we weren't focused on the pony.
It doesn't mean this story has just turned into balony.
I can't keep tabs on all the characters all the bleedin' time.
If he wanders off when it's not his verse, that is not a crime.
"He might have popped out to the pub, for a beer and natter"?
What, on his little horsey hooves? You're madder than a hatter.
Surely even you can see this just does not make sense.
Horses dine on polo mints, and sometimes jump a fence.
They ride around in boxes and they live inside a stable.
A horse could not go in a pub! It just would not be able!
But anyway, let's skip this part and get back to the poem...
Hortense has wiped away the spunk and now seems to be going...
OK, but first I must point out you're wrong on this by far.
What about the white horse that goes right into a bar
And orders a large whisky and the barman then says "Hey,
We've got a scotch named after you." and then the horse does say,
"What? Eric?" And don't forget the other tale of course
Where the barman says "Why the long face?" unto the horse.
But, yes, let's get back to the poem instead of all this cack...
Oh, Engelbert's now sloping off! Hey, wait! No, come back!
You see? This is what happens when your eye goes off the ball.
We've lost our central characters now, this just won't do at all.
You had to go and spoil it with your stupid smoking horse,
Now that is all that we've got left, I hope you feel remorse.
A post-coital smoking pony in a spunk-strewn sweaty barn,
I'd like to see what you'll do next to try spin out this yarn.
Without Engelbert and Hortense, this could really get quite dull.
Perhaps we need a friendly rat? Or perhaps an evil gull?
Well, I guess that wraps it up and maybe we should exit too.
Without our main protagonists there's nothing we can do.
I guess old Engelbert will go back to his pirate's life
And Lady Hortense one day will be some rich bastard's wife
Wondering on her wedding bed why her consumation
By her husband never quite came up to expectation.
So, time to say goodbye before this story gets too stale,
And maybe somewhere there's some kind of moral to this tale.
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