EPTOur Luke, since he had been much younger,
(And he had lived two score thus far)
Endured in drunkenness and hunger
In meager quarters near a bar.
On top of hardship and privation,
He suffered from another wrong:
His manhood was an aberration
At fully fourteen inches long.
No youthful maid with lips of scarlet,
No harridan nor lusty harlot
Would voluntarily put out
Once she observed that monstrous spout.
So knowing not of love's elation,
He dwelt in solitude malign,
Upon his penis poured damnation
And drowned his misery in wine.
But please permit a brief digression
So that I may herein include
A simple, cursory impression
Of Luke's distinguished, ancient brood.
His line was wealthy and patrician,
Owned farmland, peasants by the throngs,
And as a fortunate addition,
Especially prodigious dongs.
As generations were progressing,
That latter magnitude was passed
As though it were a father's blessing,
A true familial bequest.
One of his clan, we may remember,
Served Ivan, terrible and fierce,
And lifting weights upon his member,
He entertained the tsar to tears.
In Ivan's service ever fervent,
One time he pulled his pants ajar
And with his sausage smote two servants
Who managed to displease the tsar.
Another proved a deal less callous
In serving Peter, one may glean:
In midst of battle, with his phallus
He strove to keep the cannons clean.
Although a moron's reputation
His antecedents always bore,
Their crotches served as compensation;
No other men could brag of more.
But though their properties were many,
Luke's grandpa, wasteful and uncouth,
Had quickly squandered every penny
And Luke knew poverty from youth.
Our Luke wasn't known for being lucky,
And it could truthfully be said:
Fate granted him the means for fucking
And not a fuck on top of that.
