The Siren

A crossroads am I, where three hungry holes kneel
And if here, Traveller, you drag your worn heel
By wave or by wing, bring along a friend,
Feast to my famine, my chasms to mend
With cocks, fingers, or fists, and cunts to kiss,
So bring your toys, and don’t forget the Miss;

I’ll teach the lot of you some of my games,
Three players required (plus lube), dirty names
You’ve heard but won’t speak-- no one’s taking pics
So let down your hair and learn my new tricks:

I am your Siren, I’ll sing us all three
Low down in raptures of a wine-dark sea,
Duties deserted for my company:
Family forsook, Morals an empty name,
Except as they afford the pleasures of shame--
And such I bequeath you, such is my fame:

My flesh is music, and this tuneful rest
Is your’s Eternal, in my body’s nest.