SCRAWLMARK PUBLISHING

Moorhead, Minnesota

The FISHHOOK Group


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               Crazy Jinn Talks with the Bishop
      
                     Copyright ©2005
              by FISHHOOK and Dennis M. Hammes
                    All rights reserved.

        The pieces were first published individually
            in news:rec.arts.poems Sep--Oct. 2005
      
       No part of this book, whether text or graphics,
         may be reproduced to hardcopy by any means 
      including mechanical, photocopy, electronic data 
      storage and retrieval whether analog or digital, 
       or electronic broadcast, without prior written 
               permission from the publisher.
      
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       graphics, and attendant files), may be copied 
        for distribution or inspection via diskette, 
       modem, Bulletin Board Service, Online Service, 
        or InterNet, provided that no charge (beyond 
        that for materials and handling) is made for 
                     such distribution.
      
      
      
              Scrawlmark Catalog #crazyjin.html
                           ISBN:
                       LCC Cat. Nr.:
      
      
      
      
      
                   Scrawlmark Publishing
                  1016 South Third Street
               Moorhead, Minnesota 56560-3355


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          You go to war with the liars you have,
                  not the liars you want.
                                    -- Stuart Leichter

      

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	Prelude

There was an old Bishop, a hack
Who tried for a month to attack
  rec.arts.poems with turds,
  But they took his words,
Added English, and threw 'em right back.
  
     -=-=-=-=-

	1
There was an old Bishop of JeeZ
Had as much anal seepage as squeeze.
  He attempted amends
  With layered Depends
And infested the chucky with cheese.

	2
There was an old Bishop of Chuck
Who was desp'rately desp'rate to cluck.
  He couldn't suck poultry,
  But dumpsters and doltry
Brought grins from the old Fryer Tuck.

	3
There was an old Bishop whose wanker
Developed a hideous canker.
  He said, with a grin,
  As he wiped off his chin,
"Wow, it finally squirts when I spank 'er."

	4
There was an old Bishop whose pain
Was awfully hard to explain,
  For his penis was through
  When the inch that it grew
Sucked all of the blood from his brain.

	5
There was an old Bishop of 'Frisco
Who buttered his crutches with Crisco,
  Then stepped on a cat
  Who became rather flat
While the Bishop won prizes for disco.

	6
There was an old Bishop whose stress
Caused a wrinkle or two in his dress.
  When the monkey arose
  From the rent in his clothes,
He sublet it to chuckles for less.

	7
There was an old Bishop whose "meter"
Was sourer rather than sweeter,
  But could, in a pinch,
  Expand to an inch
If only his lover would eat 'er.

	8
There was an old Bishop, a "netter,"
Who sought out the saggiest sweater.
  He said, rather smugly,
  "I dance with the ugly;
They're grateful, and always pay better."

	9
An old Bishop who hated to score ass
Bent over so chuckles could bore ass.
  He said, "This is Hell,"
  But chuck liked it so well,
Hell was coming, and wanted some more ass.

	10
There was an old Bishop, a git
Who complained that we couldn't see "it."
  When the smelly old kipper
  Got caught in his zipper,
We saw it a fairly good fit.

	11
There was an old Bishop whose tort
Sued his God for a hideous wart.
  When his God took the stand,
  He said, "None of it's planned,
I just bounce him around for the sport."

	12
There was an old Bishop whose Mass
Ended with a fat dick in his ass
  And instant salvation
  Of the congregation
When friction ignited his gas.

	13
There was an old Bishop who bled
From his wrists over all of his bed,
  And the maggots came calling
  And sucking and crawling.
And they say that romance is dead.

	14
There was an old Bishop whose scowl
Caused all UseNet to hoot like an owl
  When a PO-wetry icon
  Caused Tommy to psych on
By scribbling poultry most fowl.

	15
There was an old Bishop of Hump
Whose pomes were a secondhand dump
  'Til he thought to begin
  An Original Sin
By equipping each line with a lump.

	16
There was an old Bishop who'd miss
When untaping his diaper to piss,
  But he thought it quite nice
  That failing it twice
Would swell up his wrinkles to bliss.

	17
There was an old Bishop whose taxi
Would run out of gas, and he, facts.  He
  Would pull off the road
  To hitchhike and reload
With a single good squeeze of his maxi.

	18
An old Bishop, while pressing his luck,
Pulled the lever that would fry 'er tuck,
  But forgot to release
  His dear pin from the crease;
Now he's looking for flatworms to fuck.

	19
There was an old Bishop who sailed
On the World-Wide Waves while we bailed
  When he cried and he cried,
  For the Monkey Dude tried
Get his paw off my nuts and he failed.

	20
There was an old Bishop who'd wince
As he flattened his face to convince
  The sober and pissed
  That /he'd/ never kissed
The frog formerly known as a Prince.

	21
There was old Bishop of Hype
Who succumbed to a terminal wipe;
  First he sparkled and glowed,
  Then we watched him explode
As his diaper went hyper with tripe.

	22
There was a lace-bloomered old Bishop
Who thought he'd found nuts he could fish up,
  And wouldn't let go
  Though he screeched at each blow
As he licked all that UseNet would dish up.

	23
There was an old Bishop, quite sweaty,
Who mumbled in Swedish and Yeti,
  But analysts found
  If they twisted his sound,
It came out in a pure Ferlinghetti.

	24
There was a transsexual Bishop
Who mumbled the Mass like a wish-op.
  He changed every Host
  To the thing he likes most,
And reads this to see what I fish up.

	25
There was an old Bishop of Foad
Who slobbered all over a toad.
  He kissed and he kissed
  And got thoroughly pissed
When the frog was so flattered it goed.

	26
There was an old Bishop of Twitch
Who lit what he thought was a bitch.
  The Coroner learned
  That a Bishop so burned
That he left not a morsel to pitch.

	27
There was an old Bishop of Faggot
Who searched for a succour who'd gag it,
  But he was so small
  With Viagra and all,
He could not even quite gag a maggot.

	28
There was an old Bishop of Zippit
Whose thing was as lean as a whippet.
  Alas for the sport,
  It was also too short
For nine-tenths of the parish to sip it.

	29
There was an old Bishop of cheese
Who knew he had ballZ when they'd freeze.
  He tried Minnesota
  To make up his quota,
But we don't supply them in threes.

	30
When the Bishop sat down to confession
To whine about UseNet possession,
  And found he'd more tenants
  Than he could give penance,
He signed them up for the succession.

	31
There was an old Bishop of landfill
Who couldn't make Dockery's gland fill.
  Despite the bare plate
  He would lecture his date
With several sermons on handfill.

	32
There was an old Bishop who'd scream
That he wanted to, please, make the team.
  He wasn't a fairy,
  But only a cherry,
So altarboys served him the cream.

	33
There is an old Bishop of Thrace
Whose butt is all over the place.
  He thinks his romance'll
  Replace the whole chancel
As centerfolds do for his face.

	34
There was an old Bishop whose Ring
"Somehow" stuck on the end of his thing.
  "It's a shocking high note
  To be heard from a shoat,"
Said the Cantor, "but, oy, can he sing."

	35
There was an old Bishop of Lard
Who would whine we should think him a bard,
  Because sooner, not later,
  His Rhyme Generator
Blew chad, and got stuck on "retard."

	36
The idiot Bishop of Fuckbrain
Just /had/ to suck Dockery's duckbrain
  For something so small
  It would swell up at all.
Now he knows how the Borneans suck brain.

	37
There was an old Bishop of Dumbass
Who wanted a bit of the cumass.
  When done with the chuckles'
  Chains, conchos, and buckles,
He really had more of a numb ass.

	38
When the crosseyed old Bishop of Squids
Left the phonon while scorin' his mids,
  And that super Conductor
  Came by, an' he fucked 'er,
We /knew/ who'd diboride the kids.

	39
There was an old Bishop of Stuffit
Who sucked curds and whey from a tuffet,
  'Til chuckles' old slider
  Stirred something inside 'er.
And after the gasping, she'd puff it.

	40
There was an old Bishop of skank
Who looked for a wanker to wank.
  He decided that Dock
  Would use just enough cock
Not to stir so much shit that he stank.

	41
There was an old Bishop of Foobar
Whose hemorrhoid calluses grew BAR.
  He signalled by hand
  As he packed them with sand,
"I'll teach that dam' chuckles what lube are."

	42
There was an old Bishop of Clare
Who required immediate care:
  He couldn't say Mass
  With the chuck in his ass,
And McAllister'd jaked in his hair.

	43
There was an old Bishop of God,
Generated his pomes with a hod.
  When he tried to rebuild
  Himself already skilled,
He Included Quasimodo's bod.

	44
There was an old Bishop who'd fake
Generating a lawyer to bake.
  They'd run from our sprinkles
  To suck Tommy's tinkles
And anything else they could take.

	45
There was an old Bishop, a guy-her
Who sucked on a seven-string liar,
  Consorted with pricks,
  And recorded his licks
To increase his dear chuckles' desire.

	46
There was an old Bishop of Sodom
Who gutted his fish as he caught 'em.
  He stuck in his smalleye,
  Gave Tommy a walleye
From fishin' "ridownonaboddom."

	47
There was an old Bishop, a fagboi,
Who thought he would bugger a bagboy,
  But something between us
  Had shredded his penis --
That ZipLock is really a drag, boy.

	48
There was an old Bishop of Shad
Who was toedully, thoroughly had.
  He stood before Peter,
  Who read off his meter
And said, "You don't even make 'bad'."

	49
So the Bishop was sent off to Limbo:
Not even one virgin or bimbo,
  His legs in a gimp,
  His poor Dickery limp,
And his monkey brains spattered akimbo.

	50
There was an old Bishop of Pitface
Who met what he thought was a shitface.
  The poor little monkey
  Threw chunky on chunky
And gave /that/ dam' mirror a spitface!

	51
There was an old Bishop of Jinn
Who wrapped chuckles' cock in a grin.
  He claimed to report
  A banana-creme tort,
But neglected to wipe off his chin.

	52
There was an old Bishop of Bleen
Who pestered the lit'ery scene.
  Told they write best who sound
  What they know best, he found-
ed a wetness-protection webzine.

	53
There was an old Bishop of Ghent's
Who succoured the chuckles for pence,
  But he drowned in the sink
  When he found that the stink
Was a summary cap-it offense.

	54
There was an old Bishop of Birdseed
Whose parrotty fed on a word-seed.
  So now he must sit
  On his mountain of shit,
Because Dockery planted a turd-seed.

	55
Why put up with the Bishop of Weasel
Who makes monkey-marks on our easel?
  We already know
  Where the Bishop will go,
We just want to see where his disease'll.

	56
There was an old Bishop of FOAD
Who kissed what he thought was a toad,
  That turned into The Jesus
  Of Smelly Goat-Cheeses
While Tommy just knelt there and blowed.

	57
There was an old Bishop of Reading
Whose ass spent a lot of time bleeding.
  He said, "When I patch it,
  It itches, I scratch it.
Bum dance, and I can't tell who's leading."

	58
We know an old Bishop of Jackass
Who's more than addicted to pack-ass.
  Though not even drunk,
  This desperate Monk
Will come running, bend over, and crack ass.

	59
There was an old Bishop of Stupid
Who dragged through our froup though he drooped.
  He'd whine and he'd whine
  How his ass took a shine,
But he'd sold his Soul-Picture to Cupid.

	60
There was a gnold Bishop of Gnat
Who gnowed what he gnu like a grat.
  But his great gnarly paw
  Glovered all he would gnaw,
So he glared while he gleeched in g-flat.

	61
There was an old Bishop of Fukov
Who searched for a student to sukov.
  He found one on rap
  Who'd lie down for a nap,
But nothing he could make a bukov.

	62
There was an old Bishop of Dick
Who begged and beseeched for a prick,
  But when push came to shove
  He was too tight for LUUUve;
'Twas the chuckles who wasn't too thick.

	63
That substantial Bishop of Bleen
Showed us what Transubstantial can mean:
  He recited the Mass
  With his head up his ass
And Transformed himself to a saltine.

	64
There was an old Bishop of Brag
Who found a magnificent fag:
  A brown wonderworm
  So round and so firm
That he smoked it right down to the gag.

	65
There was an old Bishop of Smack
Who showed up all blistered and black.
  It was only a hope
  But we said to smoke dope,
And he rolled himself up in his crack.

	66
There was an old Bishop of Mucking
Who desp'rately sought for a sucking,
  For his thing was so small,
  If it swelled up at all
It was worthy of infinite hucking.

	67
There was an old Bishop of Bigger
Whose tits used to jigger and jigger,
  But he couldn't play
  With the real Renay,
Nor bigger his twigger to twig 'er.

	68
There was an old Bishop whose tits
Drove his pizzabois out of their wits,
  Including one cracker
  Whose Bishopric-packer
Developed the drijbbling shits.

	69
There was an old Bishop whose dick
Made just about everyone sick
  Except for one cracker
  Who bragged as he'd pack 'er,
"I've brown dip for any bred-stick."

	70
There was an old Bishop whose bitty
Was jealous of any size titty;
  He took out his ire
  On a telephone wire
And stepped on a kitty for pity.

	71
There was an old Bishop of Fukov
Who attended a Circular Suckoff.
  He had barely begun
  When he'd already won
First, Second, Third, Fourth, and the Buckoff.

	72
There was an old Bishop with specs
Who played with VB for fX
  To scroll hundreds of titties
  For one dream like Mitty's.
At least his computer had sex.

	73
There was an old Bishop whose mind
Was as warped as the stuff he designed,
  Which is why our Renay,
  When approached, just said "nay"
To encounters, including third kind.

	74
There was an old Bishop of Bling
Whose step had a curious spring
  And a rod and a hinge
  That would cause an odd cringe
To precede every windmilling fling.

	75
There was an old Bishop of Failure
Who'd pout as he'd trail yer and trail yer.
  When failure outdid
  Every art that he bid,
He put his ass up for a pay lure.

	76
There was an old Bishop of Balance,
Who stepped on a kitten like Palance.
  He'd staggered, and lost it,
  So scraped it and tossed it.
To bad he had no other talents.

	77
There was an old Bishop of Bullshit
Who thought he could come here to pull shit.
  His sole Holey Spirit
  Let chuckles get near it;
Together they made beautiful shit.

	78
There was an old Bishop of Adlai
Whose brains were wired up very badly;
  He'd step on a kitten
  And Generate spittin'
And post the whole lot, rather sadly.

	79
There was an old Bishop, a joker
Who'd let almost anyone poke 'er.
  He said with a grin,
  As he wiped off his chin,
"And before you guys flush, let me smoke 'er."

	80
There was an old Bishop whose art felt
The same sort of vacancy Sartre felt,
  Or that's what he said
  'Til he grunted and spread
While a Leg Assy. thrust 'til his heart felt.

	81
There was an old Bishop whose nuts
Were all hidden in other men's butts.
  He would reach in and grip
  'Til his jowls would drip
With the flavors of maybes and whats.

	82
There was an old Bishop whose yacht
Was a scowbottom skiff gone to pot.
  Though his PO-wetic chore
  Was to find the right oar,
He rowed circles 'round what he had not.

	83
There was an old Bishop of Snipped
Whose wig was both powdered and flipped.
  He tried to give sermons
  T'Azoreans and Germans,
But pennies for /his/ thoughts is -- gypped.

	84
There was an old Bishop of dance
Who couldn't, so padded his pants
  With a foundling zucchini
  That ate like Houdini
But turned just his balls into plants.

	85
There was an old Bishop of Mounds
Who, more than his pulpit, had pounds;
  His sermons, refined,
  Would only remind
How a self-absorbed idiot sounds.

	86
There was an old Bishop of Moron
Whose sermons on theft would just bore on.
  We started a 'blog
  And found even the dog
Found him 'way too dam' easy to score on.

	87
There was an old Bishop of Whine
Who attempted a website design
  That Included and looped
  'Til it lay there and pooped
Rather like all its Bodies Divine.

	88
There was an old Bishop whose penis
Could not rise enough to demean us:
  His favorite cry
  Is to "fuck off and die,"
But he can't go to bed 'til he's seen us.

	89
There was an old Bishop of Kew
Who demanded his Highness should do
  Whom the Bishop dictated.
  'Twas his dogs the priest dated.
The dogs would all piss on him, too.

	90
There was an old Bishop of cock
Who couldn't write, PRO-gram, or walk.
  He had a runt kitten
  With whom he was smitten,
So much he took it for a wok.

	91
There was an old Bishop of Bray
Who never had nothing to say.
  He once tried to dupe
  A 'Net poetry froup,
But the poetry kept him at bay.

	92
There was an old Bishop of carb'les
Whose sermons were glitches and garbles.
  When let out to play
  By the Deacon one day,
He did gamble, and lost all his marbles.

	93
There was an old Bishop of fucknuts
Whose greatest desire was to suck nuts.
  He lined up a lits
  Whose hilarious fits
Began when the monkey grabbed stuck nuts.

	94
There was an old Bishop of Blurt
Whose legs were both terribly hurt.
  He said, "If you please,
  I can do it in threes,
'Cos it really just hurts when I squirt."

	95
There was an old Bishop of Baba,
Severely deficient in GABA;
  His site was all porn
  And other such corn
As he couldn't chew one single cob a'.

	96
There was an old Bishop, despicable,
Warty and snorty and kickable,
  Who would not leave
  For all of our heave,
For he found Will and chuckles too lickable.

	97
There was an old Bishop of Bridge
Who had no more balls than a midge.
  Turned out that some fairies
  Had rotted his berries,
So he kept them both in the fridge.

	98
There was an old Bishop of Clutch
That nobody liked very much,
  But kept in repair
  So the others could share
The experience nobody would touch.

	99
There was an old Bishop whose threat
Was of how many posters he'd Get.
  We'd agree that he could
  And applaud as he stood
With the front of his cassock all wet.

	100
There was an old Bishop who'd brag
Of how many poets he'd frag
  To take over the class
  So we thought it a gas
When he claimed that he had them in drag.

	101
There was an old Bishop whose Power
Would lie in his belly and sour
  And emit little burps
  From one end and some chirps
From the other on every half hour.

	102
When the crippled old Bishop of Fukov
Shut every last bit of his luck off,
  He couldn't steal pomes
  Or a PRO-grammer's tomes,
So stole porn for the government suckoff.

	103
There was an old Bishop whose Chuck
Made him practice a Q-tip and duck,
  But both ends went to pot,
  Indeed, started to rot,
When the Bishop grew down on his "luck."

	104
There was an old Bishop of Wishup
Who wished for a poem to dish up.
  He'd Generate feet or
  Some transcendite meter,
But nobody wanted the Bishop.

	105
There was an old Bishop of Twitter
Who swore of a Cat that he'd Get her.
  He sharpened his teeth
  On his funeral wreath
And bitter and bitter and bitter.

	106
There was an old Bishop of Craver
Who prayed for a Monkey-Trap waiver.
  He looked like a klutz
  With his paw on our nuts,
But he couldn't let go of the flavor.

	107
There was an old Bishop of Hell
Who detected a purulent smell.
  He continued to boff,
  But his pecker fell off
When he'd thought he was coming so well.

	108
There was an old Bishop, half dead,
Whose /ficare/ could not spin a thread
  For kittens to follow
  Or children to swallow,
So he'd fuck himself in the head.

	109
There was an old Bishop whose sport
Made him sweat over witty retort,
  But the best of his pomes
  Were "fuck off"s and "go home"s:
To the Power, he was a dead short.

	110
There was an old Bishop, so witty
He thought he would step on a kitty,
  But "kitty" flipped up
  And delivered a cup
Of a smell near as bad as self-pity.

	111
There was an old Bishop of twit
Begged his parish to please give a shit,
  And was overly browned
  When the bookkeeping found
He was already quite full of it.

	112
There was an old Bishop, a lump
Who was easily prodded to jump
  Just by saying "chuck steak,"
  At the which he would quake
And back into a broomstick, and hump.

	113
There was an old Bishop, a lump
Who was easily prodded to jump
  Just by saying "chuck steak,"
  At the which he would quake
And back into a broomstick, and hump.

	114
There was an old Bishop of Burke
Who was bitter that he had to jerk:
  Wrote a Fuck-Generator
  And couldn't once date 'er
(Designed 'er unwilling to work).

	115
There was an old Bishop of Camp
Who could leave not a thing his own stamp,
  And merely to handle
  Was not worth the candle:
His wick was eternally damp.

	116
There was an old Bishop of Doom
Who flew into the rap living-room.
  He shrieked and he spit
  While he drijbbled some shit
As he chattered away on his broom.

	117
There was an old Bishop who blew
Away kittens wherever he flew.
  He'd shriek o'er the city,
  "I'll get you, my Pretty
Barb's Cat -- and your little dog, too!"

	118
There was an old Bishop of Troll
Who chattered away with a mole
  'Til the sun broke the dawn
  And the Bishop was gone --
He turned into a kind of a hole.

	119
There was an old Bishop of Group
Who needed a level of stupe
  That was not to be found
  Where sonnets resound
To lick him up after each poop.

	120
There was an old Bishop of Whack
Whose legs were a little off-track.
  He'd wake up in bed
  With a bun on his head
And a wiener well up in his crack.

	121
There was an old Bishop of Obvious
Who'd constantly "gook, gook" and "govvy" us.
  For worshipping 'Jinns
  And a few other sins,
He was transferred to Lower Slobbovious.

	122
There was an old Bishop of Foad
Who found what he thought was a toad.
  He kissed it and kissed it
  So that when he'd twist it,
It shot him the entire load.

	123
There was an old Bishop of Midge
Who knocked a few holes in his bridge.
  He said, "It's their luck
  I don't charge for a fuck,
And I get to suck /all/ of the squidge."

	124
There was an old Bishop of Sweet
Who'd a way with the pizza he'd eat.
  He'd wipe out the box
  With one of his socks,
And eat pizzabois just for the treat.

	125
There was an old Bishop, a fool
Who claimed he was covered with drool,
  Or so he got by
  Until CSI
Matched the lip-marks on Dockery's tool.

	126
There was an old Bishop of Turd
Who heard a discouraging word,
  So that not even try
  To just fuck off and die,
He would whine 'til his vision was blurred.

	127
There was an old Bishop of Leaving
Who wasn't so good at deceiving
  Those whom he'd "not kiss,
  Nor even much miss,"
With his bosom so contantly heaving.

	128
There was an old Bishop of Troll
Who tried to make love to a mole,
  And that was just t'r'bl;
  Turned out, t'was a gerbil
Completely plugging his hole.

	129
There was an old Bishop of Mikey
Who said, "I will poast when I likey,
  But suck when you dish up
  Because I'm a Bishop,
And Mikey is God, by crikey."

	130
There was an old Bishop of Craddock
Who excessively scratched at his attic
  While working to start
  A continuous fart,
And blew himself up with the static.

	131
There was an old Bishop of Punk
Whose accoutrements clinked when he slunk.
  He settled his miter
  A little bit tighter
And littered the chancel with junk.

	132
There was an old Bishop of Crank
Who neither smoked, diddled, nor drank,
  And so, though his sermons
  Were longer than sherman's,
They also were perfectly blank.

	133
There was an old Bishop of Hint
Who had a peculiar squint,
  With one clerical eye
  Always fixed on the sky
And the other on his navel lint.

	134
There was an old Bishop of Blind
Who LUUUved to be banged from behind.
  He said, with a grin,
  "When I lead with my chin,
It's this leftover tooth that they mind."

	135
There was an old Bishop of Morph
Who didn't care whom he could score'ff.
  Invoking his Odo,
  He turned into Frodo
To bend his ass over to Worf.

	136
There was an old Bishop of Troll
Who had what he thought was a mole,
  'Til Dockery kissed
  The damned spot, to insist
'Twas a cancer from secondhand Skoal.

	137
There was an old Bishop of Shuddup
Who could never quite get his own pud up.
  He sent chains and buckles
  To dress up the chuckles,
But chuckles just dressed his own crud up.

	138
There was an old Bishop of Poo
Who had nothing better to do
  (And besides, the old cow
  Simply didn't know how)
Than drijbbling when he was through.

	139
There was an old Bishop of Gay
Who licked at UseNet for a lay,
  And the chuckles we found
  For the chuckles he found
Are two quite different games people play.

	140
There was an old Bishop of Bingo
Who thought he would copy the lingo
  Of poets for Power,
  And sat by the hour
To yip at their words like a dingo.

	141
There was an old Bishop of Denny
Who wasted his life on a penny
  To prove he was high
  On the toys it would buy,
And now, well, he hasn't got any.

	142
There was an old Bishop's profound
Fear of bridges was only of ground,
  So the old misanthrope
  Added six feet of rope
To his habit of hanging around.

	143
There was an old Bishop of Bitch
Whose religion had only one glitch:
  He would trudge through the kludge
  Just to suckle your fudge,
For the mention would give him the twitch.

	144
There was an old Bishop of Christ
Whose dildo was 'way overpriced.
  He thought to transcend 'er
  By stuffing a blender
And ended up thoroughly riced.

	145
There was an old Bishop whose wanker
Developed a marvellous canker
  Of such size and grace
  That it covered his face
Whenever he lay down to spank 'er.

	146
There was an old Bishop of Dustball
Whose left nut thought it was a lustball,
  And it would disparage
  The other one's carriage
As "stuck up" for being a crust ball.

	147
There was an old Bishop of Bray
Who was pretty sure others were gay,
  While the things he would do
  For a nickel or two
Were always done only for pay.

	148
There was an old Bishop of Wow
Who slept with a flatulent cow.
  He said, "I can bilk
  The dumb bitch of her milk,
Which is more than my parish allow."

	149
There was an old Bishop of Die
Who could never quite figure out why,
  When done with his sit
  And the lever was hit,
His toys disappeared.  And he'd cry.

	150
There was an old Bishop of Futile
Who sucked on a bottle of butyl.
  The subsequent rain
  Quite proved that propane
Blows bishops much better than cute'll.

	151
There was an High Bishop whose service
Mismuttered his "Jarvis" and "Jervis,"
  But just would not speak
  Of the tongue in his cheek:
"You already know what a perv is."

	152
There was an old Bishop of Hero
Who fiddled with flames like a Nero,
  But couldn't outrun
  The one he'd begun
With that failure of lifetimes, The Zero.

	153
There was an old Bishop of Doom
Who tried to crawl back in the womb,
  But his real Daddy's monkey
  Had grown rather chunky,
And left him not quite enough room.

	154
There was a transsexual Bishop
Who couldn't quite lick what he'd wish up,
  Not poems nor dues,
  But his enemies' shoes
Were his favorite thing they could dish up.

	155
There was an old Bishop of Crutch
That nobody loved very much;
  They'd kick so his cane
  Swung and rattled his brain,
A stroke called "Hilarious Touch."

	156
There was an old Bishop whose terms,
Rants, and sermons were riddled with germs,
  While the bulk of his theses
  Were little but feces,
Because of a diet of worms.

	157
There was an old Bishop whose bridge
Was dislodged when he swallowed a midge,
  But the Coroner said
  He was already dead,
And would have been safe in the fridge.

	158
There was an old Bishop whose charm
Did not reach as far as his arm
  Made its way up our butts
  To make off with our nuts,
So we sold the Old Boy a worm farm.

	159
There was an old Bishop, a creep
Who was simply too yellow to leap
  From the bridge of the said
  To the Rock in his head
Where he was to weed it and reap.

	160
There was an old Bishop of Pissant
Who anxiously tried that and this ant
  For small enough pricks
  To swell up with his licks,
For his targets were simply dismissant.

	161
There was an old Bishop whose Picture
He let without hindrance or stricture.
  The subsequent poses
  Are worthy of roses
Despite the odd smell of the mixture.

	162
There was an old Bishop of Kew
Who posted himself for review.
  We are rather afraid
  That the mess that he made
He'd have got with a smaller post, too.

	163
There was an old Bishop of Sleaze
Who scattered replies to the breeze;
  Two squadrons of geese
  And a bucket of grease
Developed a wasting disease.

	164
There was an old Bishop who'd pray
He could either be poet or gay,
  But his 'Jinn was a Finn
  From your Centralish Minn,
There, he ended up dickless, but, hey.

	165
There was an old Bishop of Boreass
Who bragged that he useta get more ass,
  More money, more yacht,
  And a PRO-grammer's slot,
For just bending over, the poor ass.

	166
There was an old Bishop of Midget
Who thought he would write him a widget
  That metered out pomes
  Into saleable tomes,
But his Muse typed with her middle digit.

	167
There was an old Bishop of fun
Who thought him a sonofagun,
  But when push came to pitch,
  The old sorry old twitch
Proved to be descended from something else entirely.

	168
There was an old Bishop of dinky
Whose prick was no more than his pinky.
  He tried to make blows
  Out of picking his nose,
But he found the proposal too kinky.

	169
There was an old Bishop of Jinn
Who looked upon living in sin
  As a hideous crime,
  For he didn't have time
For it all, nor enough to begin.

	170
There was an old Bishop of Drag
Who thought he would light up a fag.
  He said, "It's the Creed,
  And I really do need
All the pennies they drop in my bag."

	171
There was an old Bishop of Charing
Who bragged of his Credo of Sharing,
  "I've given them lice,
  And the herpes is nice,
But my AIDS is a little too daring."

	172
There was an old Bishop of Bugface
Who stalked among poets to hug face,
  And so it's a shame
  Only one chuckles came,
And gave him a bad case of rug-face.

	173
There was an old Bishop of Cheesewhiz
Who greased with the chuckles, the Knees-Wiz,
  Which cleaned up his act,
  For the Bishop had cracked,
"While you're in there, how 'bout if you please whiz."

	174
There was an old Bishop of Buckwheat
Who bragged of how fast he could shuck wheat:
  "I let the seed pass
  And blow chaff out my ass,
But they won't buy it wet when I suck wheat."

	175
There was an old Bishop whose gout
Acted up only when he was out,
  But when he was in
  He was living in Jinn
Quite enough to make altarboys pout.

	176
There was an old Bishop of Fragoff
Who scrabbled to get his old rag off.
  He cried, "It's all stuck
  With the stuff that I suck,
And I'm entered with chuck in the shag-off!"

	177
There was an old Bishop of Teary Rants
Typing a threat as his Dearie antsed,
  "I wear a B-cup
  And I will fuck you up
Beyond anything you have experienced."

	178
That bloated old Bishop of Blowaway
Tried to ride poems as stowaway.
  Hawking his snot,
  He swallowed the lot
And jumped off the bridge -- he was throwaway.

	179
There was an old Bishop of Tripe
Whose smell was excessively ripe;
  After doing the chuckles,
  He'd close all the buckles,
But never remembered to wipe.

	180
There was an old Bishop whose lice
Had the morals and jaws of a vise.
  He'd pass you the plate
  Then pat at his pate,
Thus putting the bite on you twice.

	181
There was an old Bishop whose cat
Became unaccountably flat
  When the Bishop's attention
  (Or did we not mention?)
Strayed slightly from where he was at.

	182
There was a dead Bishop who said,
On the sign at the head of his bed,
  "Instead of the dollar,
  Just polish my collar,
And rub me with Sterno instead."

	183
There was an old Bishop of Hippo
Who edited books with a Zippo.
  He said, "To research
  Will but stray from the Church,
And my Boys might bring back the dread drippo."

	184
There was an old Bishop of Dinky
Whose vestments were sultry and slinky.
  He said, "If the Mass
  Doesn't get 'em, my ass
Will convert both the cracker and kinky.

	185
There was an old Bishop whose dress
Was in desperate need of a press,
  But he left the sperm on
  To prove that his sermon
Was had in first-person duress.

	186
There was an old Bishop whose choir
Were the dregs of the public desire;
  He said, "So they're sluts
  With the broadest of butts,
But the deeper they're poked, they sing higher."

	187
There was an old Bishop whose barrel
Was missing the bottom and ferrule,
  For when he was young
  His love stuck in his bung,
And he hit the high notes of the carol.

	188
There was an old Bishop whose lace
Was designed to show off his face
  And, except for the smell,
  Nobody could tell
When he dressed up his ass in its place.

	189
There was an old Bishop of Blame
Whose taunts were exceedingly lame,
  And so was his leg
  And the way he would beg,
And the way (said his friends) that he came.

	190
There was a half-Bishop of Sass
Who installed half a bed for his ass
  In his wheeled halfway house,
  Half his hands for a spouse,
But he turned on quite all of the gas.

	191
There was an old Bishop of Whack
Wrote his PO-wems with chuckles in back,
  So all of the squiggles
  Produced by his jiggles
Had *feelings* that other men's lack.

	192
There was an old Bishop whose period
Occurred with such flow he was wearyed.
  He tried to blame chuck
  And that other fat buck,
But in fact he'd been cursed by a Nereid.

	193
There was an old Bishop whose terms
Were as dull and prolific as germs,
  And so when St. Peter
  Consulted his meter,
He transferred to Bishop to Worms.

	194
There was an old Bishop of Down
Whose mouth was exceedingly brown.
  He blamed it on germs
  From a diet of worms --
The kind others flush under town.

	195
There was an old Bishop whose archives
Were full of the notes of the "Dark" Ives.
  He said, with a pull,
  "When my diaper gets full,
He matches the mood of my cark hives."

	196
There was an old Bishop, a midge
Too yellow to jump off the bridge
  Or turn on the gas
  With a drill up his ass,
So he stuck his poor head in the fridge.

	197
There was an old Bishop, a dunce
Who couldn't quite rhyme more than once,
  Nor Meter-Machine us,
  So fondled his penis
While collating .jpegs of cunts.

	198
There was an old Bishop, a charmer
Of k00ks in his kittenproof armor,
  Who thought, with a will,
  To dwell Shadowville,
As fudge dipper and fanny farmer.

	199
There was an old Bishop whose Fall
From the Grace of the Tree was pure gall,
  Or so he behooved
  'Til the Kansas Board proved
That he hadn't descended at all.

	200
There was an old Bishop of Asswipe
Who burnished his buttocks with brasswipe.
  He polished so carefully,
  Stripping the hair fully,
Chuckles can pay with a pass-swipe.

     -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

And one for Jeanne, who chortled.

	201
There was an old Bishop whose fame
Exceeded his desperate claim
  When we turned his dimmer ick
  Into a limerick
(Too bad we left out the name).

     -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-