For those of us who seldom lay,
And even some who do,
Some like to sleep, some like to play,
And some combine the two.

You won’t be nicked amusement tax
On either of these vices.
So grab a mag, lie down, relax
You’ll not find better prices.

While most of us must make a choice,
Between the wank and dream,
And both are cause for keen rejoice,
The wank can mute the scream.

For if you sleep while facing down,
Therefore so’s your tummy,
What made you smile, will cause a frown,
On laundry day for Mommy.

If, on the other hand, you wank,
You will not mess your bed,
No one will know – unless you clank –
The frame upon your head.

The wank gives you complete control,
To ponder lovely faces,
Unlike the dream which flags its pole,
On intermittent basis.

No matter just how long it’s been,
If you should choose to nod.
Your brain can always find a scene,
Erotically flawed.

Just when you think you’ve got things made,
Your motion’s quick and short;
You wake up hard, your sleep betrayed,
Soft ending to your sport.

When you were young, it happened more,
Always were you grateful;
Now high and dry, an empty roar,
From your old unfaithful.

Ah, there’s the rub! Repeat that please,
Ready for commission.
But all that flows despite your pleas –
Nocturnal pre-emission.

Wet dreams at night upon you creep,
Of dancers nude and lap:
In day, take note of where you sleep –
Beware of the wet nap.

Fatigue can fool the best laid plan,
It’s better pulled when pushed.
A bird is worth more in your hand –
Than two if you are bushed.

But oh the wank, the glad-hand wank,
Good for each occasion,
Unless you should be too rough – donc,
You suffer an abrasion.

Now some may want a soothing gel,
While others let ‘er rip.
It sure beats solitaire to hell,
Your best hand is your grip.

Sometimes you wank with one eye shut,
You hide there in the gloom.
Afraid to concentrate on smut,
Lest Dad walks in the room.

And Mother says that you’ll go blind,
Should you not mend your way.
Optometrists aren’t hard to find –
You do it twice a day.

The church says god sees all you do
To fill your heart with shame
But when you´ve got those balls of blue
To hell with endless flame.
.
And why feel guilty for their sin,
It´s your imagination.
You add no more than silly grin,
To the population.

Where once you thought a date was fun
The edge is with the wanker;
No need to rush when all is done
Nor even have to thank her

The risk of STD will fade,
You’ll never use a glove.
And wise the words of Woody A. –
“It’s sex with one you love.”

You need not strut, you need not rue,
You only need be deft.
What’s more, to be with someone new –
You need just use your left.

You cede those days when you awake
And life will cut no slack
It seems to all you need a break
But you´re just out of whack.

To sleep, to dream, to wank perchance,
Both can be of pleasure;
But greatly can the wank enhance –
The telling of your measure.

Copyright © 2002 Paul Heno