A young lady reporter from Youghal
Wore a newspaper dress at a ball
But the dress caught on fire
And burned her entire
Front page, sporting section and all.

The jolly old vicar of Bray
His roses allowed to decay
His wife, more alert
Bought a powerful squirt
And said to her spouse, “Let us spray.”

A pretty young lass from Moyass
Had a truly magificent ass
Not roundy and pink
As you possibly think
It was brown, had long ears and ate grass.

There was a young girl from Athy
With shape like a capital I
When the lads thought it bad
She started to pad
Which explains how some figures can lie.

A young girl who lived in Askeaton
Had a figure with plenty of meat on
She said, “Marry me, dear
And you’ll find that my rear
Is a grand place to warm your cold feet on.