Little House On The Prairie

There was a little house
On the Prairie
Well, not really prairie and not little
Somewhere between Ostia Antica
And Casal Palocco

It was cowboy country
A mish mash of good
And the bad
And sometimes the ugly
But definitely cowboy

Men played shotgun
With me on a regular basis
Some shot pistols, others rifles
But they liked to shoot
And you could find their bullets everwhere

I'm not sure if I was a cowgirl
Sometimes cowgirl positions
But often not
Men often imagine unorthodox things
Which are not always easy to do

Men rode into town on their stallion
Sometimes brown or black but often white
Colour never changed the gallop
Or the things that took place
There is no prejudice in a whores bed

But after the ride we sat by the campfire
And talked, and more
Often the talk was of loved ones
Of which I was not one
But they loved my cunt

They loved my cunt and ass because
They were always available
At a price
And men like that
They are not patient

I don't live on the little prairie
Any longer
My cowboy days are over
Yet I still get ridden
At my 'bidden'

But the wild and wonderful west
Is now just a memory
The dust lays fast
And I have cobwebs
Around my cunt