Bora Bora
When I was down in Bora Bora,
Examining the native flora,
I had a yearning to imbibe
Libations of the local tribe.
They served them up with evening victuals,
And used them in their mating rituals.
They came in reds and blues and yellers,
Bedecked in fruits and toy umbrellers.
I found them sweet and somewhat heady,
In fact they made my knees unsteady.
Yet seemed to me to be quite fun,
And so I had another one,
It warmed my length and depth and girth
And filled me with unbridled mirth.
Which somehow led to three or four,
Till my proboscis hit the floor.
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