Regime de Vivre
(with apologies to Lord Rochester)
I rise at eleven, I dine about two,
I get drunk before seven and the next thing I do,
I send for my man-whore, when for fear of a clap,
I get him to eat me and come in his trap;
Then we quarrel and scold, till I fall fast asleep,
When the prick growing bold, to my fanny does creep.
Then slyly he leaves me and to revenge the affront,
At once he bereaves me of filling my cunt.
If by chance then I wake, hot-headed and drunk,
What a coil do I make for the loss of my punk!
I storm and I roar and I fall in a fury,
and missing my judge, I shag the whole jury.
Then crop-sick all morning I rail at my men,
And in bed I lie yawning till eleven again.
Contessa Nikki de Glasgow
(The original version was written in the 17th century. Thought it was time to update it.)