PD335-341. Places, anyone?

There was a young fellow of Greenwich
Whose balls were all covered with spinach.
He had such a tool
It was wound on a spool,
And he reeled it out inich by inich.

There was a young fellow of Strensall
Whose prick was as sharp as a pencil.
On the night of his wedding
It went through the bedding,
And shattered the chamber utensil.

There was a young fellow of Warwick
Who had reason for feeling euphoric
For he could by election
Have triune erection:
Ionic, Corinthian, Doric.

There was a young man from Bombay
Who fashioned a cunt out of clay
But the heat of his prick
Turned it into a brick
And it rubbed all his foreskin away.

There was a young man from Calcutta
Who was heard in his efforts to mutter,
"If her Bartholin glands
Don't respond to my hands,
I'm afraid I shall have to use butter."

There once was a queen of Bulgaria
Whose bush had grown hairier and hairier.
Once a prince from Peru
Who'd come up for a screw
Had to hunt for her cunt with a terrier.

There once was a maid from Mobile
Whose pussy was made of blue steel.
She only got thrills
From those pneumatic drills
And an off-centered emery wheel.