My Old Bag - Dark Humour

I lay my dearest Susan down to rest
Of tall tales and humour she was the best
An excuse each night
Wouldn't hold me tight
There's something I need to get off my chest

See, Susan was a talented old hag
Three men at once she quite often would shag
The gents often told
Of her lips of gold
and the tricks hidden deep inside her bag

I put up with her, turned the other cheek
She was built of strength, I a man so weak
Shame filtered these eyes
She laughed at my cries
Til they found her in the bag by the creek


*no bags were hurt in the making of this poem*