Diddling nellie

Lil the Whore

Lil the Whore (aka Diddlin' Nell or The Legend of Piss Pot Pete) is a rhymed folk poem. This bawdy poem, which was once much more common, has appeared in print rarely because of its bawdy content.

The poem


Diddling Nellie

Nell was a schoolteacher way out west
But she gave up teaching. She like diddlin' best

Now it was a standing bet in our home town
There were no two men black or brown
That could frog old Nell and hold her down

'Til one day there strode into the bar
Wild and wooly Piss Pot Pete
Fresh off the range from diddlin' sheep

Pisspot laid his John upon the bar
The old folks say that it reached from thar to thar.

Pete yelled for a bottle then turned as he spoke
Spent a year on the range with a rusty load in my poke

I've palmed a few batches on the hill where I sat
Changed hands and gained a stroke -- caught it in my hat

On a cold winter's nights, I go to bed with the sheep
Then leave my John soak til the shit is knee deap.

Now I want a gal, no two bit whore
She must be a good one who knows all the score

There's only one woman any good I hear tell
She's a hustling chippy a bitch called Nell

Now just the sound of that name brought a hush over those walls
The only noise in the room was Pete scratching his balls

So you want old Nell, said a voice from the door.
Well that's what I'm called. I'm that old whore

I hear you are here bragging. I know your sort
There won't be any price. We'll do it for sport

But I'll take a bet -- anything you can name --
Mine against your and only one winner in the game

It's a deal said Pete and the croud gave a hollar
Then the betting begain. No odds. Dollar for Dollar.

They all shook hands and the bets were made
For Pete and Nell to screw and spar
Up on the hill behind the bar

When the day arrived thousands fought for a seat
Just to see that half-bread hide his meat

A shout arrose when the half-breed came
Dressed and ready for that deadly game

Nell came out and the croud gave a cheer
For on Nells face there was a snear

For this little old shriveled man
That dared to brag he could frog her can

They turned and sparred twisted and sweezed
First one then the other upon their knees

Fought and fought for hours and hours
Tore down trees, grass and flowers

The sneer was gone from old Nell's pan
All her thoughts were on her can

Neither smiled; neither spoke
Suddenly Nell missed a stroke
And Pisspot nailed her as she broke

The ground was torn for miles around
where poor Nell's ass had drug the ground

Nell died that day all broken and tore
They hung her pants on the craphouse door.

Poor, poor Nell

The Legend of Pisspot Pete

Now gather 'round children and I'll tell a story of old,
When men were brave and women were bold.

It all started a way out west,
To settle the bet of who was best.

Now Old Lil fucked everything that crawled or creeped,
And piled her victims in a great big heap.

There wasn't a man for miles around
With a big enough rod to fuck her down.

Now news of this boast traveled far and wide;
Thousands of rod-toters came and died;

When down from Knoxville came Piss-pot Pete,
With eighteen pounds of Swinging Meat.

Eighteen pounds of meat and thirty pounds of cod;
He wasn't a boy--he was a MAN, by God!

Pete laid it out on the Blue Balls Bar;
I'll swear it stretched from thar to thar.

Stunk like shit, I thought I'd die;
But he just laughed and let it lie.

Gentlemen, countrymen, boys in blue,
Came to witness this terrible screw.

People came from miles afar,
To place their bets at the Blue Balls Bar.

They met the next morning in the middle of the street,
The Mangey Whore and Piss Pot Pete.

Pete greased his dick with a tub of lard,
And he killed a mule trying to work up a hard!

Old Lil warmed up on an old cross-tie;
Oh my God how the splinters did fly!

Pete came down Main Street like a south-bound freight,
And Old Lil knew she had met her fate.

All she could do was to take a seat,
And let old Pete sink his meat.

With a stretching of flesh, and tearing of skin,
Old Pete drove the first two feet in.

Old Lil screamed and clawed at the grass,
And yelled like a panther with a turpentined ass!

Lil let out a scream, "I can't take any more!"
But Pete pounded away on the smelly old whore.

The earth shook and dark came to the sun;
Pete's eyes rolled back and he fired off his gun.

When the battle was over and the dust had cleared,
Over forty acres, Lil's ass was smeared.

Gallons of love were spilled out in the street.
It was so damn sticky, you couldn't pick up your feet!

Land was torn up for miles around,
Where Old Pete's balls had drug the ground.

Pete reeled in his dick and pounded his chest;
Got on two horses and rode off West.

As a lasting memory to the great Old Whore,
They hung her drawers on the Bar Room door.

And all the soap this side of hell,
Couldn't wash away that whorehouse smell!
Now Old Pete died and went to hell:
Fucked the devil and his wife as well!

The little imps screamed and climbed the wall,
Yelling, "Get him out of here before he fucks us all!"

He fucked ninety-eight and his balls turned blue,
Then he backed off, jacked off, and fucked the other two!

Lil The Whore

In a town of Louieville,
There lives a well known whore, named Lil,
Now it was known for miles around,
That no two men could hold her down.

Then over the hill came a bare ass Greek,
Who said his name was Piss Pot Pete.
He laid his cock across the bar,
It was seventeen inches long and twice as hard.

Lil knew then she had met her fate,
But to back out then was to late.
So they choose a spot up on the hill,
In back of the shit house beside the mill,

He mounted her like a Belgium stud,
And threw her ass into the mud,
And they fucked and fucked for hours and hours,
Until they had killed all the trees and flowers,

Lil tried some stuff, some super stunts,
Unknown to other common cunts.
Finally with a sigh and a cough,
Lil gave up and Pete jacked off.

Now Lil is no longer a well known whore.
And Pete is the father of four or more,
They no longer do it behind the mill,
For now they do it on the window sill.

Pete better teach his kids from right from wrong,
Or they will go about a singing this song.

Garter Fixer.
Darling let me fix you're garter,
Just and inch above your knee,
And my hand it slipped up farther,
And she shot all over me.

Printed & Recorded Versions

Further reading

See also


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