Memories of Jerusalem

Jerusalem the golden, no longer very blest;
I met a fat Jewess there and watched as she undressed;
She had so many stretchmarks she looked just like a map,
And I gaped in silent horror as I watched her take a crap.
She wiped herself all nice and clean and then got into bed;
Saying quite seductively, "Vould you like a little head?"
Said I, "In my view, a blowjob sounds just fine,
As long as you don't expect me to do a sixty-nine".

O, if I could but forget the rest of that dread afternoon,
But I really have to tell of her last exit from the room:
She waddled to the balcony and let her breasts hang out
And toppled with the weight of them, falling with a shout.
I rushed over to the window and saw she'd landed on her feet
But she could not avoid a big bus speeding down the street;
When the bus ran over her, she let out a dreadful sound
And was squashed like a big tomato spread out on the ground.

I thought then of her handbag, left behind in her haste
And extracted all her money, so it wouldn't go to waste;
But I knew that an autopsy and a check between her teeth,
Would give the cops my DNA, as I'd not used a sheath;
And if they checked with Interpol, the police would learn my name,
Thus, then the corrupt bastards might put me in the frame.
So I wisely thought I'd skip my trip to the Golden Dome
And jump tout de suite* upon the first flight heading home.

* = Pronounced in this case in its anglicised form: "toot-sweet"