Memories of the Zeebrugge-Hull Ferry

How I recall with fondness a sea journey
From Zeebrugge, delightful Belgian port city,
To Hull, where I was scheduled to give a lecture
On "The Joys of Sodomy for the Over 80s"...
I went into the dining saloon and opted
To share a table with a tasty bit
Of female flesh of the kosher persuasion;
Encouraged by her frantic lustful winkings.

We chatted and we soon got down
To a bit of heavy flirtation and snogging
And, once I had found out she was a young whore,
I suggested rather daringly and boldly:
"Come back to my cabin, you little slut,
And I'll give you one where the sun don't shine."
"My nipples" she replied, "are stirring under my blouse...
And I am as wet as a rainy night in Katmandu"

Once we had settled on a hundred euro fee
We raced back to my first class cabin
And I soon had my hands on her eager arse,
My tongue right down her gullet, my groin humping away.
"Get your clothes off, you fucking cow" I murmured romantically.
And soon she was a stark bollock naked vision on the bunk.
Oh God, but she had beautiful breasts...
And, downstairs, a dick the size of a giant cucumber.

It really was just as well I had given her a false name
(No one would ever know that Barry Hodges,
Northumbria's greatest seducer of women
with more notches on his bedpost
than a mangy Mexican mule has fleas
and famous muff diver extraordinaire,
had coughed up a hundred hard-earned euros
for a titbit of tasty teenage trannie tail).