You all know by now that I’m partial to ancient tidbits of vulgar and smutty verse, the grownup equivalent of nursery rhymes. If ever there were a verse that deserved to be called doggerel, this would be it:

Brave Jack of Winchester had a fine dog,
The finest that ever was seen,
He gave it to his Mistress
To keep her company.
This Dog was used to run by her side,
When she was going to hunt,
And all the night long it lay in the bed
A licking about her cunt.
Come husband, away with this filthy cur,
It makes my flesh to rise,
He left off all, and to her did fall,
And slipped between her thighs.
Thine or mine, for a pint of wine,
And we’ll have it for supper:
Had you but seen her stretched at length,
How strongly he did tup her.