Bertie's Little Problem

Bertie was a troubled boy and in need of correction,
Because he was disposed to have an unconcealed erection.
The vicar hid his children's eyes, the nuns they blushed quite red,
But Father Flynn, from Mandolin, said, come and try my bed.

His mother beat her scraggy breast, said, Why couldn't I have a stoner?
Instead I'm lumbered with this kid who can't control his boner!
She took him to the doctor who sent them to a shrink,
But all she had to offer was cold water from the sink,

The girls at school all giggled and said, well, mighty me,
If we suspect he fancies us we just have to look and see!
It was a sad existence, which Bertie, he did end,
And jumped into the river weir, just by the factory bend.

They buried him in the churchyard, beneath a granite stone,
Which warned the casual passer, Dear friend, control your bone.

Close To The Bone

A rather graphic comic poem about a boy who cannot control or conceal his frequent erections.


Medical Poems


Max Scratchmann

Copyright © Max Scratchmann. All Rights Reserved