I have a hollow weenie,
I whizz where e'er I want.
I know it's hollowed, cuz, you see,
it's where the pee comes out.
Its face is like a pumpkin.
its smell is like a ghost.
Oh how I love to pee with it,
shall we raise a toast?
To all the hollow weenies,
who came and went before,
and marked the edge of territory,
to keep the evil door.
From opening up,
and letting the devil in.
I whizz to your glory,
freeing us from him.
I whizz to all the girls,
who have gone before,
when they saw my weenie,
scared them to the core.
I love my hollow weenie,
will love it till I die.
Man, I just took a whizz,
pass the pumpkin pie.
More Poems
My Place
Read War's End, the Novel
Copyright 2005 © Ronald W. Hull
Photo Courtesy Gent Family