The Lame and the Whore

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The Lame and the Whore  
Peter, Wynne, 18 march 1966, #31

It's a lowdown shame how some of you cocksuckin' lames
you all claim to be so hip,
every time you open your mouth I know you
dead from the South,
and you're just another poor hustler's tip.
You claim to be a bigtime gambler and you got
a fast moneymakin' whore,
and you supposed to be that whore's first love.
You're good at pickin' people's pockets and
robbin' supermarkets
and you're a foxy boy in a pair of boxin' gloves.
But you play workin' men's wives, you'll even burglarize,
in fact, you're good at all you attempt,
but your greatest mistake is when you decided your fate
and thought that a lame like you could pimp.
Because I've been pinnin' your style for quite awhile
and I can see you ain't down with the game,
why the very bitch could make you both rich
if you wasn't such a motherfucken lame.
Because you got one a those whores that look
good in her clothes,
and she got that pretty velvet-like skin,
and without a guess, when she lift her dress
she's at least worth a fin.
Say, but that bitch you got, her cock gets hot,
and she's wild as a bitch can be,
and it's a lowdown shame how the bitch'll pull her train
and give all her pussy away free.
Then the bitch come draggin' it home with her sickpad on,
and talkin' shit, "Daddy, you sure is sweet.
When you go down to the store bring me back a box a Kotex,
and don't forget to bring us back something to eat.
Say, but before you go I want you to know,
that today I lost my job,
and the money I drew, I lost that too,
I cross my heart to God."
So there the bitch will lay, she's the picture of death,
not one cryin' penny in her pocket,
the bitch feelin' fine, her breath smellin' like
beer, whiskey, and wine,
and her ass is smellin' like a dyin' fish market.
Say, you got to wake up, lame, and prove to this whore
that you are not no goddam fool,
say, you got to prove to this bitch that you are
three-quarter jackass
and that the other part a you is mule.
Say, you got to rule that bitch, you got to school that bitch,
you got to teach her the Golden Rule,
you got to stomp that bitch, you got to tromp that bitch,
and use her like you would a tool.
You got to drive that bitch and you got to ride that bitch
like you would a motherfucken mule.
And after the end of the month rolls around
and that bitch's flag jump back in port
[when she menstruates]
then keep every inch a your natural prick right
down her prick-sucken throat.
And if the bitch starts to complainin' that she
got pyorrhea a her gums,
put you some pillows up under that whore's
belly and then charge her asshole some.
Charge that bitch's ass and charge it hard,
till the bitch no more can feel one slidin' fart.
Then take the bitch out on the highway and
drag her until she's damn near dead,
then take your pistol and shoot her right
through her motherfucken head.
Then send you a message to Tom Devil, for to
hell she's bound to go,
tell Tom Devil to use that bitch and to abruse

[sic] that bitch, because she's just another
no-good whore.
Say, "Please, Mr. Devil, just before you call your roll,
if you have got just one more trick left in hell,
please charge that poor whore's soul.
And when her soul-fucking days are over and
her pussy they no longer buy,
throw you some more brimstone in the fur-
nace and throw her dogass in the fire.
And when her soul is burned to ashes, put
them in a jar and send them to me
so I can take them and show them to all these
other free-fucking bitches who are going
around and giving their pussy away free."


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