Guy’s so hung yet so unpoled;
his libido spark’s gone cold.
He doesn’t want it this way;
to a doc he goes one day.
There, he says, “Doc, please help me
regain my rigidity.
Doc, jeez! Make me, please priapic.”

“So, you want it just like a post?
With something you will be dosed.
You will love long and frequently.
Yes, priapic you will be.
It will put steel in your part,
as if you’re struck by Cupid’s dart.”

“Doc, pleased will I be, priapic!”

“You’ll be starting to discover:
You won’t keep it under cover.
This elixir will impart
oh so much growth, you’ll crow and boast.

“Bonely you with your new part;
bonely you—let’s get a start.
Take this prescription down to the pharm.
Swallow down and then set your alarm.
You’ll be arming yourself for the night,
squeezing into caverns with delight.

“Take these, and you’ll be priapic…
grown-tree Viagrist.”