The Ballad Of Eskimo Nell

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by Minxy, Jan 11, 2006.

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    [align=center]Gather 'round, all you whorey,
    Gather 'round, and hear my story.

    When a man grows old and his balls grow cold,
    And the tip of his prick turns blue;
    When it bends in the middle like a one-string fiddle,
    He can tell you a tale or two.
    So pull up a chair and stand me a drink,
    And a tale to you I'll tell
    About Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
    And a harlot named Eskimo Nell.

    When Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
    Go forth in search of fun,
    It's Dead-Eye Dick that swings the prick,
    And Mexican Pete the gun.
    When Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
    Are sore, depressed and sad,
    It's always a cnut that bears the brunt,
    But the shooting's not so bad.

    Now Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
    Lived down by Dead Man's Creek,
    And such was their luck that they'd had no fcuk
    For nigh on half a week.
    Oh, a moose or two, and a caribou,
    And a bison cow or so,
    But for Dead-Eye Dick with his kingly pr1ck,
    This fcuking was mighty slow.

    Dick pound on his c0ck with a huge piece of rock,
    And he said, "I want to play!,
    It's been almost a week at this fcuking creek,
    With no cnut coming my way!"
    So, do or dare, this horny pair
    Set off for the Rio Grande:
    Dead-Eye Dick with his kingly pr1ck,
    And Pete with his gun in hand.

    Then, as they blazed their noisy trail,
    No man, their path withstood.
    Many a bride, her husband's pride,
    A pregnant widow stood.
    They reached the strand of the Rio Grand
    At the height of a blazing noon.
    To slake their thirst, and do their worst,
    They sought Black Mike's saloon.

    The swinging doors they pushed back wide,
    Both prick and gun flashed free.
    "According to sex, you bleeding wrecks,
    You'll drink or you'll fcuk with me!"
    Now, they'd heard of the pr1ck of Dead-Eye Dick,
    From the Yukon to Panama,
    So, with scarcely worse than a muttered curse,
    The fellows all sought the bar.

    When Dick walked in to a house of sin,
    The whores all cursed their luck,
    Not even a tart dared let out a fart,
    When he said - "I want to fcuk!"
    The girls they knew of his playful ways
    Down on the Rio Grande,
    And forty whores pulled down their drawers
    At Dead-eye Dick's command.

    For they saw the finger of Mexican Pete
    Move on the trigger grip,
    So they didn't wait and at a fearful rate
    Those whores began to strip.
    Now, Dead-Eye Dick was breathing quick
    With lecherous snorts and grunts,
    So forty butts were bared to view,
    And likewise forty cnuts.

    Now, forty butts and forty cnuts,
    If you can use your wits,
    And if you're slick, at arithmetic,
    Makes exactly eighty t1ts.
    Sure, eighty tits are a gladsome sight
    For a man with a raging stand.
    It may be rare in Berkeley Square,
    But not on the Rio Grande!

    Now Dead-Eye D1ck had fcuked a few
    On the last preceding night,
    This he had done just to have some fun
    And to whet his appetite.
    His phallic limb was in fcuking trim.
    As he backed and took a run,
    He made a dart at the nearest tart,
    and scored a hole in one.

    The lady he bore to the dusty floor,
    And there he filled her fine,
    And though she grinned, it put the wind
    Up the other thirty-nine.
    When Dead-Eye Dick lets loose his pr1ck,
    He has no time to spare,
    With speed and strength, combined with length,
    He fairly singes hair.

    He had made a dart at the next fair tart,
    When into that harlot's hell
    Strode a gentle maid who was unfraid:
    Her name was Eskimo Nell.
    But Dead-Eye Dick had got his pr1ck
    Well into number two,
    When Eskimo Nell let out a yell.
    She bawled to him, "Hey, you!"

    Dick gave a flick of his muscular pr1ck,
    And the girl flew over his head,
    He then wheeled about with an angry shout;
    His face and his balls were red.
    Nell glanced our hero up and down,
    His looks she seemed to decry.
    With utter scorn, she sneered at the horn
    Which rose from his hairy thigh.

    She blew the smoke of her cigarette
    All over his steaming kn0b.
    So utterly beat was Mexican Pete
    That he failed to do his job.
    It was Eskimo Nell who broke the spell
    In accents clear and cool:
    "You cnut-struck shrimp of a Yankee pimp!
    You call that thing a tool?

    "If this here town can't take that down,"
    She said to those cowering whores,
    "There's another cnut that can do the stunt,
    But it Eskimo Nell's, not yours."
    She dropped her garments one by one
    With an air of consumate pride,
    And as she stood in her womanhood,
    They saw the Great Divide.

    She seated herself on a table top,
    Where someone had left a glass.
    With a twitch of her t1ts, she crushed it to bits
    Between the cheeks of her ass.
    She flexed her knees with supple ease,
    And spread her thighs apart.
    With a friendly nod to the mangy sod,
    She gave him the cue to start.

    Now, Dead-Eye D1ck knew more than one trick,
    And he meant to take his time,
    For a woman like this was orgasmic bliss,
    So he played the pantomime.
    He flexed his assehole to and fro,
    And made his balls inflate,
    Until they looked like the granite kn0bs
    On the top of a palace gate.

    He blew his anus inside out,
    His balls increased in size,
    His mighty pr1ck grew twice as thick
    And reached almost to his eyes.
    He polished his d1ck with alcohol,
    Then, to make it steaming hot,
    He finished the job, when he sprinkled his kn0b
    With a cayenne pepperpot.

    Then he did neither start to run
    Nor did he take a leap,
    Nor did he stoop, but with a swoop
    Began a steady, forward creep.
    As a marksman might, he took a sight
    Along his mighty tool,
    And his steady grin as he pushed it in
    Showed a calculated cool.

    Have you ever seen the pistons
    On the mighty C.P.R.,
    With the driving force of a thousand horse?
    Well, then you know what pistons are.
    Or, you think you do, but you've yet to see
    The ins and outs of the trick
    Of the work that's done on a non-stop run
    By a fellow like Dead-Eye D1ck.

    But Eskimo Nell was no infidel,
    As good as a whole harem
    With the strength of ten in her abdomen
    And the Rock of Ages between.
    With nary a scream, she could take the stream
    Like the flush of a watercloset.
    Now, she gripped his c0ck like a Chatswood Lock
    On the National Safe Deposit.

    But Dead-Eye D1ck would not come quick,
    He meant to conserve his powers,
    For if he'd a mind, he'd grind and grind
    For sixteen solid hours.
    Nell lay a while with a subtle smile,
    Then the grip of her cnut grew keener,
    And a squeeze of her thigh then sucked him dry
    With the ease of a vacuum cleaner.

    She performed this trick in a way so slick
    As to set in complete defiance
    The principal cause and basic laws
    That govern sexual science.
    She calmly rode through the phallic code
    Which for years had withstood the test,
    And the ancient rules of the classic schools
    In a moment or two, went west.

    Right here, my friend, we come to the end
    Of copulation's classic:
    The effect on D1ck was sudden and quick
    And akin to an anaesthetic.
    He fell to the floor, and he knew no more,
    His passions extinct and dead,
    Nor did he shout as his c0ck fell out,
    Though 'twas stripped right down to a thread.

    Then, Mexican Pete did leap to his feet
    To avenge his pal's affront,
    With a jarring jolt of his blue-nosed Colt,
    He rammed it up Nellie's cnut.
    He rammed it hard to the trigger guard,
    Then fired two times three,
    But to his surprise, Nell closed her eyes
    And smiled in ecstacy.

    She rose to her feet with a smile so sweet,
    Then "Bully," she said, "for you.
    Though I might have guessed that that was the best
    That you two poor pimps could do.
    "When next, my friend, that you intend
    To sally forth for fun,
    Buy Dead-Eye D1ck a sugar stick,
    And yourself an elephant gun.

    "I'm going forth to the frozen North
    Where the peckers are hard and strong,
    Back to the land of the frozen stand
    Where the nights are six months long.
    "It's hard as tin when they put it in
    In the land where spunk is spunk.
    Not a trickling stream of lukewarm cream,
    But a solid, frozen chunk.

    "Back to the land where they understand
    What it means to fornicate,
    Where even the dead sleep two in a bed
    And the babies masturbate.
    "Back to the land of the grinding gland,
    Where the walrus plays with his prong,
    Where the polar bear wanks off in his lair,
    That's where they'll sing this song.

    "They'll tell this tale on the Arctic trail
    Where the nights are sixty below,
    Where it's so damn cold the jonnies are sold
    Wrapped up in a ball of snow.
    "In the Valley of Death with baited breath,
    That's where they'll sing it too,
    Where the skeletons rattle in sexual battle
    And the rotting corpses screw.

    "Back to the land where men are Men,
    I'll say 'Terra Bellicum,'
    And there I'll spend my worthy end,
    For the North is calling: 'Come!'"
    Then Dead-Eye D1ck and Mexican Pete
    Slunk away from the Rio Grande,
    Dead-Eye D1ck with his useless pr1ck,
    And Pete with no gun in his hand.

    When a man grows old and his balls grow cold,
    And the tip of his pr1ck turns blue,
    And the hole in the middle refuses to piddle,
    I'd say he was fcuked, wouldn't you[/align]
  2. BBear

    BBear LE Reviewer

    now THAT is a legendary song! My dad told me it, he'd heard it from a SSgt somewhere in germany when he was a lad. The guy made him learn it, and he remembers to this day.

    Love it!